


Part 5 – The Good Life

by Nesrie, Paladin (Nesrie)



Series: Home [5]
Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Light Angst, M/M, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-19
Updated: 2019-12-29
Packaged: 2020-09-07 06:17:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 24,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20304829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nesrie/pseuds/Nesrie, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nesrie/pseuds/Paladin
Summary: John and Arthur plan a little trip to town together. Sometimes John's plans work out. Sometimes they don't, and of course what is life without some surprises, good or bad.





	1. Chapter 1 – One Hoof at a Time

Arthur shifted briefly on QuickSpeed, a slight indication that the man likely still felt some pinch in his spine. He wore a green long sleeve shirt with a white shirt underneath and was nicely concealed behind a heavy grey coat Abigail patched up for him. His jeans were a bit faded and a little tighter now that his bottom half filled out with good food and ample rest, a fact John didn’t mind at all. There was just something… different about looking at thick thighs and a pretty worthy ass knowing both belonged to him, but the younger man couldn’t focus there too long because his lover toyed with his mount’s reins, still testing the sleek and black animal’s take to the bit and harness and even gradually changed speeds with a few kicks to the strong horse’s side before easing up again. God, Arthur’s subtle training became a lot more fascinating and heart-warming to see when things quieted down and would’ve been the highlight of the day if the man’s light eyes didn’t suddenly reveal themselves from under that big brown hat of his just to throw a slight glower John’s way. 

Now John appreciated Rachel more and more each hour he rode her because her calm temperament meant he could focus on his partner while feeling almost completely at ease atop of her. It was like someone out there was looking out for him, giving him a good horse to match Arthur’s ornery one, and he didn’t mind when Arthur worked with her either. Arthur knew what he was doing, tended to her real gentle like during grooming and managed her wounds and everything. As soon as the older man said she was ready, John believed him, didn’t even second guess his lover. Right now though John tried to use his black hat to conceal his amused expression, even attempted to tuck his mouth behind the yellow shirt he wore, collar upright to help with the ruse, but it did nothing to actually hide his glee based on how his companion responded. “So you plan on being mad at me the whole trip, or we gonna be able to enjoy ourselves a bit?”

“You said you wanted to go to town.” Arthur growled briefly.

“And we are. I mean, that is the destination…” John lowered his collar and gave the man a more open grin. “I ain’t lied if that’s what you’re saying. I don’t know why you’re so mad.”

At this point Arthur did exactly what John expected him to, he waved at the twenty or so head of cattle they traveled behind, herding them down the road real slow like. “You left out an important detail, something I figured you might one day actually grow out of.”

“Well seeing’s how we’re already late in delivery, and it was largely cause you got so sick, and then we had to wait for Rachel to heal good, I figured you wouldn’t mind helping me guide them in.”

Arthur huffed heavily. “You damn well know you could’ve just asked, and I would’ve said yes, been better ready for the trip even. Shoulda let me bring more things.”

“It was more fun to see your reaction when I pushed them to the fence this morning. I know you haven’t seen them around much because they were a ways out, and you didn’t ask about them.” John motioned towards Arthur’s saddle bags. “And I don’t know who you think you’re talking to. You pack almost everything you can think of, rope, guns… knives, even when we’re not doing nothing special.”

“Might need it.” Arthur defended himself with a frown. “John, I’ve left for hours at a time. You really think I didn’t case you… our place out a bit, just to check, just to see?”

Oh that sounded promising. “And what did you think?”

“It’s a nice piece of land you got here Marston. I figure we can get some more cattle on it next year, maybe some other animals if we want to.”

“You ever see someone sheer sheep?” John still felt maybe Arthur didn’t like the idea of breeding their horses, but he’d keep pushing, keep encouraging the man to the point where he realized he could do it and do it better than a lot of actual breeders. Just to remind Arthur of his good work so far, John ran his fingers down Rachel’s smooth neck and watched her bounce her head a bit as if appreciating the pet.

Arthur shrugged. 

“I have, didn’t look fun.”

The older man rose his brow slightly. “Tell me that’s not the reason you picked cattle over em.”

“It was one of the reasons.” John replied carefully. “Not the only one.” Somehow he knew what was already coming, some sort of lecture, some sort of judgment.

Arthur sighed.

“What?” John objected. “I’ve done fine with cattle so far.”

“It’s a stupid reason not to pick something John. Cattle are bigger, rougher, attract more rustlers and are more dangerous to move. If you had something smaller it’d be safer for Abigail and Jack to work with em, and you and I could do it alone. If we get more next year, we’re gonna need help. Sides if you didn’t like sheep, we could’ve tried goat.”

“I know that.” John shook his head. “You see I got these a few at a time though, ones other fellas didn’t want cause they were too small, another kind of sickly and a couple were pregnant and they had to move em. It’s why their colors don’t all match, but I built this up slowly, got them fat, only lost a few. You know, anything to try and save some money. And there’s a problem when goat milk taste just like goat meat. It’s gross Arthur. Stop treating me like I’m a stupid child.”

“Just a child, not any more stupid than the others.” Arthur mumbled.

John snorted, catching Arthur’s partial smile. “You can be such an ass sometimes.”

“I have to keep myself rough around the edges somehow. Ain’t nothing wrong with goat anything.” He gave a nod towards John. “She handling good?”

John became all smiles on the inside because his earlier pet, well the man noticed which allowed John to walk him into the subject he intended to push all winter, horses. “Yeah, Rachel’s a lot calmer than your hellion.”

“Oh he’ll settle, at least for me. She’s a pretty nice horse actually, once she cleaned up good and showed you her training.” Arthur ran his fingers down either side of his mouth. “I figure someone paid a good penny or two for her, real quality stuff.”

“I wonder if she’ll run for me like Quickspeed did. Hey let’s go to the far end near that area you usually like to rest by the water. It’s deeper over there, might have a dock someplace and we can settle the cattle right at the edge of it. They’re not likely to run into that high of water without a real good reason; it’ll keep them in one place I figure.”

“How can you not know if there’s a dock down there?” Arthur glanced in that direction. “And that’s at least a mile, maybe two off our road. We’ve got more than a couple hours left of light. We should push on.”

“You asking a man who can’t swim why he ain’t hanging around docks, and you’re calling me stupid.” John snorted. “It’s in the same general direction still, just traveling nearer the water. They’ve been real calm so far, easy to guide, sides there’s probably still good grass there too.”

Blue eyes met his gaze, suspicion chiseled in those nice gems. “How long you tell Abigail we’d be out?”

“Oh…” John rubbed the back of his neck. “Eight days, give or take a week.”

A frown returned to the older man’s features. “And the real number?”

“Maybe six, since we don’t want to hurry or damage them, and there’s only two of us so if we lose one we’ll have to stop and go get em.”

Arthur shook his head but turned the horse to get the herd to move with them in the direction John wanted. “You gotta be more honest. “

“Abigail’s just thrilled I’m going where I’m saying I’m going, that I’m coming back close to when I’m saying I’ll be back and that you’re there to help keep me straight.” Since Arthur didn’t talk back, he knew the man believed him, probably even considered how straight John was being, and really, maybe John felt he was being more honest than he really meant to be cause Arthur really did steady him, keep him going forward and looking less back. Maybe it would’ve been easier to just tell Arthur he needed him, often, and then say he also needed just a hint of freedom, just the idea that he could go do business, enjoy himself for a little bit and then come back. Was that so wrong? He wanted to ask his brother, his lover that, but he didn’t because a part of him worried Arthur Morgan might say yes, yes there was something wrong with that, wanting to be away from it all for a small part. And if the man said that, what would he do then? Since he didn’t know the answer, well John just said mostly true things but no details in the reasoning. “How’s your back?”

Of course Arthur stiffened immediately at the question. “Is all right.”

“All right in that it hurts but you’re managing, or all right in that it feels good and the riding don’t hurt you none?” John naturally challenged.

“We’re going at an easy pace, nothing real exciting, and QuickSpeed ain’t a rough ride.” Arthur didn’t even half grumble his horse’s name this time. “I figure once we deliver we can have a night at the hotel, rest up, and I’ll be fine for a faster ride home.”

John nodded although he still figured they could do something before going home, maybe even a productive hunt. Sure he cared, truly cared about Arthur’s well-being. He didn’t have anyone else to help him bring them in, and maybe another hand would’ve been nice, but there wasn’t anyone else he really trusted. He also didn’t mind the change of subject which naturally gave them some silence on the way to the area John talked about because Arthur wasn’t to be distracted by conversation when he was so worried about the cattle crossing the shallows, and it wasn’t that John didn’t care about their livestock. Oh no, he cared, cared plenty because he had a loan out based on those animals as well as depending on the sale for their livelihood. The thing was Arthur was with him, John he had all the confidence in the world they’d manage somehow, like they always did, till that one horrible night.

A few hours later, John had set-up camp while Arthur did whatever the hell it was the man thought was necessary which seemed like getting the cattle real close and huddled together so they grazed nearby and were easy to spot and hear. 

“John, we’ve got plenty of sun left. Just what the hell do you think you’re doing setting up camp?” And he sounded like the old Arthur too, barking at anyone standing around even if he was only a couple of steps ahead of someone doing the same thing later, only meaner about it.

“We’ve also got plenty of small things to eat and real food packed. I guess I figured we could get started early.”

Arthur glanced at the heating coffee pot, probably deciding if it was worth it or not. John didn’t know why the man didn’t insist he make the coffee if he hated it that much, but he never did. It probably wasn’t in him to criticize John over something made and waiting for him. The man didn’t complain all that much about Pearson’s meal choices either, well at least not as much as the rest of them. “Get started early with what exactly?”

John glanced at the two bed rolls he laid out right next to each other as well as the folded blanket he brought all neat and tidy in the tent.

“Jesus John.” Arthur shook his head and rose his voice.

“You know Abigail usually waits until we get started before really appreciating me like that, but I can’t say I mind the early praise much.” John grinned as Arthur walked away. He’d be back. They both knew it. “I’ll be waiting for when you get bored trying to figure out something else to do!” John called. He found a tree to lean against, tipped his hat over his head and decided to take a brief nap. He didn’t see any reason to put more energy into something that didn’t require it. The cattle were just fine, eating and drinking and just wandering around nearby.

About an hour later John heard footsteps, placed his hand on his gun and then glanced up to see Arthur arrive with three fish strung together at the end of a rope. He laughed. “You brought your pole?”

“You never know when it might be useful. I got us some fresh dinner. No use having rations when we don’t need to.” The older man kneeled down to place a small grill over the fire to cook it, and he used some salt Abigail must’ve given him too.

John kept smirking. This was just too much fun not to enjoy, even if some of it was at Arthur’s expense. “It also takes longer to cook than something you ain’t gotta cook so you can delay the next part as long as possible. What if I don’t want to eat?”

“John…” Arthur looked annoyed but also a little, well, uncertain too, his brow narrowing and eyes softening as if he might actually be considering any truth behind John’s accusation. 

Hoping not to trample the issue too badly, John stood and approached the fire, needlessly kneeling nearby to help Arthur arrange the fish. 

“You think that’s what I’m doing, avoiding you?”

John looked up to catch the blue eyes peering at him as the fish skin sizzled against the hot iron. “I think you’re used to working from sun up to sun down unless you’re pushing yourself to do more than that. There ain’t no shame in resting some when we got them all gathered here like we do.”

“How much you owe John, on all this?”

He snorted and glanced to the side with a quick huff. “Too damn much with not a good rate either. I’m a nobody with a blank past to these people.”

“This herd is everything to us John. It don’t even feel right resting in a tent and not keeping a watch on them the whole time. We’ll lose your dream if we don’t do this right.” Arthur replied quietly.

“Your dream.” John corrected cautiously. “And Abigail’s and Jack’s… but not really mine. I just…” He scratched the back of his neck. “I’ll fight for it Arthur, to the nail, kill for it if I have to, but having you all at my side is more important to me than that ranch. It’s just, well, the ranch seems to be the only way to do that I guess.”

Arthur frowned. “You wanted something else, still want something else?”

“I don’t want to lie to you Arthur.” John admitted. He felt a pit form in his stomach anyway. Was he about to disappoint the man, again?

“Then tell me the truth.”

“And if I do you won’t, you won’t think less of me, won’t hate me for what I say?”

Arthur glanced down, focusing on some unseen spot on the ground so he could tell John what was probably hard to hear. “I had this idea of a future John, of you living with your wife and son, someplace safe, a normal life with quiet mornings and fine evenings. It’s, it’s what Hosea kept saying he wanted for all of us before he died too.”

“Before he was murdered.” John couldn’t help himself. When they talked about the past there were just key moments he didn’t want lost just so Arthur could try and soften their responses to anything that might come later. These same moments, they fed his hate, his hate of knowing Micah lived, his rage at the Pinkertons for almost everything and then the resentment along with the confusing parts all directed at Dutch, their failed leader and… well even thinking about the word father hurt too much now to think too long on it.

The older man bit his lip, frowned briefly, but didn’t refute the point. “Then I started realizing that wasn’t, well most of us wasn’t going to make it. I was real sick, and others were taken from us I just…” Blue eyes met his gaze again. “I wanted that future for you because I thought it would keep you alive, and you’d be happy in the end. I remember dragging you to a lot of things you liked even if you said you wouldn’t, so that didn’t really stop me John.” He paused again. “I don’t think I can be happy knowing you’re not.”

John scooted a little closer to Arthur, placed an open palm against his cheek and caressed the cheek bone with his thumb. “Maybe having a ranch wasn’t and isn’t my dream; maybe waking up every day to deal with horseshit and a stubborn cow, stupid chickens and trying to fight damn caterpillars in the garden isn’t my idea of a good time. But you know what Arthur… I feel alive, like really look forward to having meals with my family there by me, watching you tame a horse, get them to settle down and listen, encouraging their personalities as you do… even those two Morgans ain’t been the same since my Morgan began working with them.” He smiled briefly. “Do you know when Abigail doesn’t think anyone is looking or around she sings when she hangs the laundry? She never did that at camp. When you were working with Jack and cutting that meat, he seemed so silly excited for that and your eyes were just, well it was like it was just you and him in the world for a few minutes. I like all that stuff, love it even.” He moistened his bottom lip with his tongue. “And sometimes I just need to go to the saloon for a drink, gamble some, talk rough with other men, go hunting or do something a little stupid; I get to do all that with you now. Maybe it ain’t some big ole house with servants and fancy rugs and silly large stables with too many horses for one family to ride, but it’s what I look forward to.” John considered Arthur for a moment, realizing immediately that the man might be looking at the fish but that solemn expression said he was listening, and listening real good. “You ever think about getting yourself a woman?”

Arthur snorted a laugh, an odd, quick sound that was followed by one of those looks that said he wondered if John just left his brains by the side of the road somewhere. “You’re not thinking to ask me something like that.”

“No. I’ve been thinking.”

“This ought to be good.” Arthur responded in his old sarcastic tone.

“Hey!” John pretended to be offended but kept trudging ahead anyway. “I mean it. It don’t seem real fair that I’ve got Abigail, and you just got me. I’m just saying that I’d probably murder a man that looked at you twice but a woman, well maybe…”

Arthur shook his head and turned the fish. “I figure one needy lover without any hint of patience and borderline control is more than enough for me.” The older man cracked a smile. “You know I can’t let you go gamble all the money we’re about to earn away. Abigail will skin me alive.”

“Five dollars.”

Light eyes left their meal to peer at him again. “Just five?”

“If we don’t get hurt too bad on this sale, I get five dollars to play with at the table, you get a couple dollars for drinks at the counter. We’ll just eat what we brought or maybe get some fresh biscuits and jam, then we get a room so we’re all rested up for the journey home.”

Arthur leaned back to consider the proposition. “You don’t want me at the table?”

John huffed. “I’ll just wind up competing with you, and you know all my tells. I’ll burn through my money in an hour.”

“And without me you think you’ll last longer.”

“While we’re gambling, sure.” John smirked, hoping and knowing Arthur might follow his line of thinking even if the man didn’t change his expression none. “I’m hoping without you I can outsmart these locals enough to get real excited and earn enough to get to that bed real happy… you know, enough so I can make you real happy too.”

Arthur snorted. “So you figure you’ll roll in the tent with me tonight, and in a couple of days have a victory round in the hotel?”

John rose his chin slightly. “The way I see it, you’re still earning your way back into my good graces, so tonight you’re going to treat me real nice and by the time we get to town, you’ll be aching for me to win and real eager yourself when we get into that room after knowing what comes after my win.”

That caught the other man’s attention, and their steady gazes lingered in silence for maybe a full minute.

“Whatcha mean John? What I gotta do to treat you real nice?” Arthur’s expression shifted between suspicion, concern but also interest. It. Was. Beautiful.

Now John wanted to approach this carefully because he needed to push Arthur but not force him. Now felt as good as time as any to give it a try; his lover seemed in an easy enough mood to humor him at least, and the argument that might have come discussing another woman was all but forgotten already. “You ever take a man into your mouth before, have a cock run along your tongue?” 

Arthur’s expression became guarded and thoughtful and far too practiced in hiding his reaction for John’s taste, especially since he didn’t know if it was the idea or the crude words John used that his companion reacted to the most. Arthur poked the fish again but didn’t reply, at least not right away. “You probably know the answer to that.”

“Are you… curious?” John decided this was going pretty well. Arthur didn’t say no, and didn’t blush and hide or walk away.

Arthur ran his tongue along his bottom lip while warm eyes glanced at the tent for a moment. “You’re saying, you’re saying I owe you or… or… we won’t…”

“No!” John’s voice rose too quickly and startled that stupid horse nearby, but he ignored the stallion for at least the moment. “Well I mean I said that but I didn’t REALLY mean it. You know, teasing.” Shit. Abigail said to be cautious about this kind of thing with Arthur, and here he was, trying to get Arthur to retire early so they could have fun tonight but totally messing it up by pretending he was going to force him to do something new simply because he was pretty sure the man liked it when he was in control… didn’t he?

“It’s okay John.”

John sighed and leaned back, frowning at the fish. “No, no it ain’t. Abigail said I should approach this real easy like, mention it like I wasn’t a bull running around the house, and now I’ve gone messed it up anyhow.”

Arthur carefully placed the fish on a tin plate to cool before cutting into it and beginning to remove the bones, but he didn’t seem mad or too eager to flee, even now. “You do that a lot, talk to her about us?”

John felt his confidence begin to slip away suddenly. “I umm, well I try to get some advice. I don’t really have anyone else for, well for this, and we both know I don’t always do things… right.” And who else would’ve taught him about relationships after watching Mary and Arthur fail together, and Molly just get shot for lying to get attention. It’s like none of them were meant to have anything good for the heart, but he didn’t give up on the blonde near him, even if he kind of wished he hadn’t said anything about this now.

Arthur carefully set aside some steaming chunks of fish and placed them to the side as he’d always done for John, knowing the younger man didn’t like fish all that much and swallowed it too fast to properly work out the bones. “You listen to her very often?”

“Not as often as I should since we’re having this conversation.” He hesitantly took a couple pieces of hot fish with his fingers when it was held out. It wasn’t too bad, not really, not compared to some of the slop they’d had in the past. “I mean I can stop if you…”

“No.” Arthur interrupted abruptly. “No, no that’s not a good idea. She’s the one that you said pushed you forward for… us.” He paused. “So she thought I wouldn’t like the idea, neither did you.”

John answered that like a question even though he thought Arthur might be just considering aloud. “I thought, well I thought you might be embarrassed or maybe thought it wasn’t something a man would do. I…” He was cut off after Arthur chewed a chunk of fish, swallowed moved towards him and captured his lips in a demanding kiss.

Strong, thick fingers grasped his hair, and a tongue thrust into his mouth, which of course he accepted. Something triggered inside him, and the reeling and the hesitation, well it just sort of submitted to ongoing sensations because he was currently being harshly kissed by his eager lover.

When his lips felt too soft, puffy and bruised even, and they were both out of breath they parted and John peered at his man. “I don’t, I don’t know what that means.” But he was hoping it led to more.

“It means shut-up; eat your dinner without complaining about it being fish. Get the tent ready, so when I get in there after checking the perimeter, we can do what you want.” The older man gave a quick nod like he was, well he was convincing himself.

“But is it what you want?” John questioned with a steadier voice this time.

Arthur gobbled up his fish and stood. “I’m going to go check on the horses.” The light was dimming but neither of them needed a campfire to see just yet, so when the blonde turned to face him before actually leaving, it was easy for John to see Arthur’s calm and collected expression. “You did it, and you’re man enough for me.”

After Arthur faded from sight to go see those damn animals, John grinned, wide and happy like. It felt like he’d just won something, so he really did eat his fish without complaining.


	2. Chapter 2 – Warm Tents

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nothing is every entirely simple for our boys, but maybe a little complicated isn't too bed. Hell, maybe complicated is damn hot.

John ate the fish as quickly as he could, almost choking on a flaky morsel, and he didn’t even like fish. Since he didn’t have any misgivings about letting hot chunks of fish go to waste he thought about doing what Arthur suggested he do the last time was given something he didn’t want to east, tossing it… except Arthur still removed the bones for him like he was a child, anything to help little Marston eat something he didn’t want to it. Maybe it was just being sweet, one of those things the man did without others noticing before, showing he liked them even as he yelled, cursed and at times just kind of hit them in annoyance, in anger; he never really hit John though. Maybe John just couldn’t toss it because no matter how habitual it might’ve become, he’d just watch his lover use large deadly fingers to pull out tiny bones and it seemed like a waste of a warm effort not to finish it.

Even as he ate, brunette’s head spun a bit as John tried focus on anything else except the fact that Arthur wandered off and actually intended to return right to this very spot to wrap those lips around his cock and just… No. He couldn’t focus on that now, or he’d wind up spent before *It* and just… well hell. A silly grin stretched across his scarred face as John sorted of entered into the tent and started just messing around with things; something Arthur never really liked him doing in the first place. 

Since John set-up camp all by himself, he felt a little less worried about moving anything out of place. He checked more than enough times to make sure any rocks were removed before he laid the bedrolls down, but he checked again and then proceeded to smooth their bedding anyway. Next he grabbed the blanket for tonight, unfolded it and laid it across the two sleeping spots; then he changed his mind and artfully folded it again. After kind of just fussing around a bit he decided to lie down and fidget, just sort of twiddle his fingers and stare at the fabric of their tent noticing, for the first time, that the tears he remembered this particular tent having had been stitched. Abigail didn’t even know about the small rips, so it had to be Arthur. The man did have a habit of wandering off for hours at a time, and John never really followed him or kept an eye on him outside that one time. Maybe the man sneakily repaired this a long time ago, and John just didn’t notice. It wouldn’t be like Arthur to try and get attention for doing something, well almost anything, like that, and his lover probably wouldn’t resent others not thanking him either. 

Slowly John’s eyes moved to a scar on his right arm, remembering the time when he was young and got himself shot in the arm. Sure Arthur said he was still young, but when he held the weight of his first pistol and aimed it at live targets, people actually shooting and hoping to kill them first, he’d spooked a little, wasn’t nearly as aware as he was now, and rushed into things when the energy kicked in. Too risky, too eager, both Arthur and Hosea chided, but Dutch thought it real grand he took a more aggressive route, following Arthur as he did even though the older man was a lot more experienced and tough, too damn good for him to imitate then. And as soon as John got struck, Arthur turned his big ass right around, in the middle of fire, out in the open, to get him, saved John from worse and sewed him right up afterwards, even had a more gentle touch than he ever expected.

“Where the hell are you Arthur?” This nervousness, the anxiety he felt… God he hadn’t felt like this since he had his first woman long ago. It couldn’t have been more than twenty minutes, maybe not even more than ten. It didn’t matter; John’s patience ran out almost the minute he entered the tent, so he left the tent so torn between worry, anxiety and annoyance that he didn’t see the man leaning against the tree right next to him at first glance; then John blinked.

There stood Arthur, still in his heavy coat fighting off the chill, a cigarette in one hand, eyes hidden behind a brown hat that still looked, well it seemed strange to John sometimes to see that on his head, but not as odd as how relaxed the man looked right now though.

“Wha… what? How long you been standing here?” John demanded.

Arthur lifted his head, blue eyes shining with tolerance and humor. “Oh bout five minutes after I supposedly left.”

John huffed. “Why the hell are you just standing there and making me wait inside like that?”

Ever so carefully Arthur put out his cigarette, gave a brief and dry cough and replied with a slight smile. “I’m an old man John. I thought I’d let you get some of that energy and fretting out of yah before giving you leave to shove something that big into my mouth.”

John laughed. It sounded absurd except boy did his lover look pretty damn serious. “You worried?”

“You’ve been known to get carried away.” Came the gruff reply.

“Abigail didn’t tell you I shoved my cock into her mouth too hard.” John challenged while shifting between feeling bewildered and offended.

Arthur’s smile spread briefly, and he kicked at a nearby rock. “She don’t need to. I know you John, really know you.” He sounded almost peaceful with that admission, but John still didn’t understand, and he had to.

“I’ve been really patient.”

“You weren’t as excited as you are now.”

“I don’t see how that makes no difference.”

Arthur pushed himself away from the tree and approached close enough where his eyes rose just a bit to meet John’s gaze. “You fell off the first horse given to you, free and clear, a half dozen times cause you forgot you knew how to ride, you were so excited.”

“That wasn’t…”

“We practiced for months with your pistol, dead on shots, blasting bottles, marks on trees… so many yards away Hosea insisted on seeing it with his own eyes using just a damn pistol. First gunfight we get in, it’s like you forgot you were a gunslinger.”

“But I…”

“First big payout from a job you took lead in, heart beating so fast you dropped your money in the street on the way to the saloon.”

John frowned briefly, turning his head to the side and searched his memory for that moment. “You said I left that back at the camp.”

“Didn’t want you to feel like a child while spending all that time strutting down the street like a man.” Arthur replied dryly.

The younger man bit his lip, trying to think of what to say. “Okay. So when my blood is pounding I guess I can get a little carried away, a little careless. I ain’t going to hurt you Arthur.” John paused. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

Arthur lifted his hand to John’s neck and just sort of ran his thumb along his nearby jawline. “There’s a lot of things I want to do with you John. I’m nervous sure, but I ain’t scared. You’ve not hurt me with all our exploring. I reckon I’m not that fragile anyway, not, not in that way.”

“You figure you’re fragile in other ways?” John felt, well he felt good that Arthur appeared just fine to admit this sort of thing to him.

“Already said to that, more than once.” This time Arthur’s handsome face gave him a weak and uncertain smile, but the light remained in those gorgeous blue eyes which gave John no small amount of confidence.

“Okay… so maybe I get a little jumpy when excited. And I guess this is your way of trying to let me work that off before we get naked together.”

Arthur gave a brief nod. “You need more time or can we undress in there and… well get started I guess?”

John grinned. “You really are nervous.”

He received a snort in response. “Don’t know I’m going to be much good at this.”

“You don’t, you don’t have to be.” John whispered with no small amount of assurance. “The fact you’re willing at all…”

And then Arthur did it again, he leaned forward, brushed his lips against John’s and pursued a firm kiss. Coarse lips against John’s, strong fingers curling just a little too tightly against his neck and the pressing of a tongue into his mouth, well John was reminded it weren’t like the old Arthur to back away from something just cause he was unsure or scared. It seemed like new Arthur found his footing again, with John, and it made his heartbeat too fast again.

They parted a little sooner this time. “I’ll go in there, get undressed since there ain’t much room. Then you can come in and join me. We’ll warm up first.”

“Okay John.” The rough and warm voice sent tingles up his spine, and it took all John had in him not to let the jittery excitement Arthur hoped been worked out of him to start building up again.

Back inside the tent John worked himself out of his boots, pants and shirt followed by socks and undergarments. Of course he just sort of piled them nearby before lying on his bed roll and trying to shift around a bit to look a little more… presentable. Once he got as comfortable as he could on a bedroll, John called out. “Okay!” He took a breath and then another one trying to keep cool enough to remain calm although his cock already leaked a little, was half hard from just the thoughts, and there was nothing he was going to do to hide the thrill his eyes advertised when Arthur entered.

The strong man paused near the entrance, light eyes traveling the entire length of John’s body which just sent a ripple up the younger man’s spine, and of course, those blue gems lingered at his crotch, focusing, really focusing on the eager flesh he’d be tasting later. From this angle, it was kind of hard to see if Arthur blushed when his eyes dropped, and he finished getting into the tent. John liked to think he did, because the bashfulness, that trait that almost no one else ever got to see, it stirred something deep inside him. In fact, he partially sat-up to watch the other shed his coat and shirt, folding it just so as he often did. Hell having him bend and twist a little while he did it gave John a good vantage point of those back muscles and a view of a few longer and thin red lines that moved across his back. A couple hundred, maybe even more, men and some women tried to kill this man and failed. It, well the more John spent as Arthur’s companion and lover, the more he understood why some folks romanticized outlaws. Since John spent most his life as an outlaw and found the seasoned body Arthur only recently didn’t try to hide as often as incredibly worthwhile, he sympathized. If it weren’t for Arthur’s agreement to do this, John would’ve been on him already, kissing those tender spots, licking along those lines and groaning his pleasure. Instead, he just dropped his hands to his filling cock and stroked, quiet like but not hiding so that when Arthur finally finished undressing he turned to see John eager and watching. And that seemed to surprise him.

Arthur stood still for a moment, his eyes revealing a mixture of confusion and a desire to look away, but he held strong. And that blush John wondered about earlier, there was no hiding it now, and God spare him his wrath because John knew for damn sure he’d spend the rest of their lives together making sure he got to see that again and again. 

“Don’t see how you can be so interested after seeing me so many times John.”

“And I don’t see how that view will ever bore me.” John motioned Arthur closer and the man complied, dropping to his knees to ensure a firm kiss, and a needier one which was followed by strong, often dangerous hands gliding along John’s bare shoulder and moving down his chest. 

Once the kiss ended, Arthur shifted, moving a lot more smoothly then he’d been able to do for days now. The large man dropped his head and left a trail of warm kisses along John’s neck then collarbone and finally partially down the middle of his chest. Arthur’s lips felt coarse and steady, his fingertips and palm hardened, all of which left a trail of want behind wherever they touched. John leaned back, peered at the stitches again and just allowed himself to feel, well, treasured. He wondered if this is how some of the women from the man’s past felt right at the start of having Arthur as a lover, just… like they were the most important person in the world to Arthur in that moment, and that felt good right now, real good. The man hesitated near his navel though, just paused there as if he suddenly got stuck somehow.

John reached down and lightly ran his fingers through Arthur’s hair, still smooth and light and just the right length. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do Arthur, never.” Heaven help him if he felt the need to offer another out because if Arthur didn’t take this one, John wasn’t sure he was strong enough to do it again.

“It’s just…” A pink tongue traveled along his bottom lip.

“Just what Arthur?”

“I didn’t think this through…”

John’s heart sank briefly, but then he let it recover because they were both naked in a tent in the wild which could only lead to sex of well any kind; he was more than okay with that. Then Arthur continued.

“Abigail would’ve done this plenty of times while I ain’t….” The man’s brow furrowed, and he paused giving John a chance to sit-up and tug at Arthur’s shoulder until he moved up and closer alongside him.

Gently John lifted his palm to Arthur’s cheek. “When we were first together in this tent, you were uncertain, a little shy and just… so trusting. As we got closer, you just got more skittish, ashamed, and for a while I really didn’t understand why or just how to help you get comfortable so we could enjoy it. It seems to me the closer we got the more worried you were about failing.” John hesitated, not as confident in what he was about to say as he wanted to be because he might just be, well wrong. “I know you weren’t allowed to fail much back with the gang or with anyone else for that matter. When I failed it just, well it disappointed me, but when you did I seen it crush you Arthur. The thing is, you can’t fail with me. I love you, and there ain’t any comparison to anyone else. If I wanted someone to just suck me off real good and fast, I could pay for it. But having you here with me now, all ready to try it and just stuck cause you’re worried I have a wife who knows a lot about sex and bodies…” Was he sounding stupid now? John wasn’t sure because Arthur turned away from him and looked towards the tent entrance. “I, well I want to be with you Arthur, and being with you can’t ever be a failure. We ain’t, we ain’t failing. Hell you undressed like it was nothing and came in here just to suck my cock. I’d call that some real progressing…” Carefully John dropped his hand and ran his fingers up and down his lover’s back. “Please look at me Arthur. I just… I don’t know what else…”

“Goddamn it John.” Arthur mumbled quietly. 

John’s hand carefully fell from Arthur’s back, worry settling in his stomach. “I’m, well I don’t know what I said but I’m sorry cause…” He quieted down when Arthur turned, his pretty eyes raising to meet John’s gaze although the small droplets of tears gained John’s attention pretty quickly. His lover was… crying?

Arthur wiped his eyes after a moment. “I ain’t ever going to live this down now… Arthur Morgan cried during sex.”

John giggled, a real life, full on giggle because he was so happy to see Arthur’s smile slowly reveal itself. It meant the world to him, and the man responded nicely to what he was saying too. With a deep intake of breath, John grabbed the older man’s neck, drew him closer and leaned forward himself so they could kiss again; this time John nibbled briefly on Arthur’s bottom lip before he leaned back, all smiles and confidence again. "So we gonna do this?”

“Yeah.” Arthur replied immediately. “Just lie back and try not to stare at me, close your eyes or something. And don’t mention what happened… to anyone.” The growl was meant as a threat. It only served to excite John more.

“Oh I’m going to be looking Arthur. You might get me to start with my eyes closed, but I ain’t going to lie. I’ll be watching soon enough. Just the thought of this happening is one of the hottest damn things of my life, and don’t you be second guessing. It’s all because of you old man. I’ve had a number of women, a few men down there, and that ain’t even come close…”

John had spent too much time trying to be clever and encouraging, he sort of got caught by surprise when powerful fingers wrapped around his aching flesh and a warm mouth engulfed his leaking head. Now too many men liked to brag about having women in brothels, being their first or even second, hunting around for fresh offerings like they were born with rocks in the head. He figured most of them lied outright about actually having that kind of offer and the others lied because it weren’t fun like they said. Nervous, untried, unskilled… led to teeth and scraping and not the kind of howling those idiots bragged about. With men though, sometimes it was a little different, especially with a man like Arthur who thought pretty quickly as he went because men knew what is like to be scraped, clawed or even hit in places they didn’t like. Unless he hated the fella, he wasn’t about to cause that kind of pain to someone else. So right from the start, John did just lean back against his bunched up coat, felt the rough large tongue of a man glide along the underbelly of his fully hard cock and then experimentally circle around with no teeth involved. Sure his lover sucked a little too hard at first, licked and poked at his slit just a little too firmly, but the God help him the heat, the moisture… the fact it was Arthur… John suddenly felt just a bit more thankful that Abigail taught him a thing or two about control, especially those nights where she insisted tormenting led to more pleasure later; she weren’t wrong.

At this point, John decided not to look at Arthur. Seeing the man John idolized for so long, naked, bent over him nursing his cock like that, well he’d lose it in seconds. Instead he just sort of reached down, gripped light strands tight enough that they both might think for second John had some control in all this… and then he moaned.

Maybe Arthur weren’t exactly skilled, but he could feel almost the exact moment Arthur shifted away from that worry about doing something wrong to well the incredible next steps that left John panting. Those rough and completely lethal hands joined Arthur’s toiling mouth, and wrapped around the base of his cock enveloping John’s entire cock in a blanket of rugged warmth. At the back of his head, he kind of heard a certain woman remind him that only an asshole would hold off as long as he could with this stuff, and John had no intention of tormenting his untried lover nor disappointing his wife, but he wanted to feel this… longer, and not just the pleasure of it. Each finger, each imagined dip of the head, the quiet suckling and wet sounds Arthur made as he shifted or bobbed. 

Okay. It was time. He needed to see Arthur, to touch him more, to assure him and probably not praise him because if John opened his mouth right now it would not be coherent at all. Very carefully John flexed his muscular abdomen, tightened his impressive thighs and managed to partially lean forward so when he opened his eyes it was easy enough to quickly grabbed a mass of blonde hair and grip it a lot tighter than he should have. Naturally Arthur’s light eyes revealed themselves immediately and the determined expression he previously showed shifted to one of confusion and concern. It was so damn hot, just as John knew it would be. His lover, his protector, goddamn Arthur Morgan wanted in too many states nearly fully engulfed his entire cock with that same, I’ll do this right so help me expression he got when given a task as simple as moving a barrel of hay from one location to another. John spiraled quickly.

“Any second.”

Arthur’s confusion didn’t really subside until John thrust forward a little too sharply, despite his best efforts, and entwined his fingers too tightly in those smooth blonde strands he almost worried he might wind-up ripping some loose in the aftermath. Then he came.

Because John rarely got to go play dress-up and fuss around with high society like Hosea and Dutch thought he were some kind idiot, despite being the only one who was actually married, he didn’t get to go to fancy parties and see some interesting things like… fireworks. But the way Arthur described that sort of thing, John felt pretty damn sure he was seeing them right now. Just colors, lots of confusing and explosive colors. He shouldn’t have held onto Arthur like he did, bucking a little wild but not too hard as he did. And the sounds coming out of his mouth, well he couldn’t describe them much either, but the colors, that, that was something else as was the tiniest amount of coherence he had that said his body was writhing in pleasure. All that became evident when eventually he remembered to breathe, let go of what he was holding onto and attempt to try and close his eyes. When the heat subsided and the muscles throughout his body started listening to his brain again, John opened his eyes again to see Arthur calm nearby, using an old water canteen to douse a weathered red bandana to clean his mouth and then John’s lower body. When their eyes met, an almost shy smile formed across the older man’s face. “Should’ve worked you more first.”

John swallowed, glanced around, almost like he was amazed it was still their tent and the whole thing weren’t a dream. “Did I, did I hurt you?”

Arthur moved alongside John and gave him a brief kiss against the cheek. “John, I ain’t some newly Christened whore, and I’ve had a lot worse done to me.”

Immediately John turned to kiss Arthur, but he must’ve rinsed his mouth already because he just tasted what it often tasted like to kiss his lover. “You weren’t supposed to endure that… I mean are you even…” His eyes dropped to see Arthur half-hard cock, not firm enough to stand upright but not so soft that when his hesitant hands stroked the top Arthur didn’t shudder in pleasure.

“Not what I meant.” Arthur grumbled so deeply it almost sounded like a growl, and not the ‘I’m not far from killing you growl’ that he probably used too often with stupid men or enemies in general before he outright killed them, but the kind of the sound that would’ve sent currents up John’s spine in anticipation if he weren’t just spent already. 

“I’m sorry.” John kissed him again and kept touching and stroking, causing that calm expression of the older man’s to melt away into something a little more akin to vulnerable and needy, the best kind of look on Arthur.

Arthur closed his eyes at some point, his hips lifting briefly with the stroking. “Can’t believe I got that kind of reaction out of yah.”

John grinned against his lover’s lips while nipping at the parched lips. He just couldn’t get enough of kissing right now after what Arthur done for him, so he did that too. “Been thinking about it forever.”

“Only been like an hour John.” Arthur reminded breathlessly.

An arid laugh escaped John’s lips immediately. “Weeks, months, more than days... You were just as hot as I thought you would be Arthur.” Finally getting full function back in all his limbs, naked John moved and leaned so close to Arthur he almost sat in his lap so he could whisper against a flushed ear. “How did I taste?”

And the man that thrived on instant reward found himself fully satisfied when Arthur’s entire face turned red and his lover looked away, that cocky deep voice sounding just a little light and uncertain. “John…”

But that wasn’t all, Arthur’s cock jerked under his hand, the larger man’s muscles tightening and of course that needy sigh that sounded. “Tell me Arthur, were you just a little bit… en… en…” Damn it. He couldn’t remember the word. “Worked-up?”

“Enthralled.” Arthur growled softly. “John… please.”

It wasn’t quite a whine, but it was close, maybe even as close as John had ever heard Arthur whine. He’d feel compelled to draw out that sound in the future, but for now, Arthur needed to be rewarded for trying, for succeeding really in giving John such a wonderful go. This time when he whispered against Arthur’s ear, a light tongue traveled the curve too. “Let go. You’re almost there Arthur. For… me.”

Arthur’s blue eyes vanished behind seemingly delicate lids, and the man breathed and huffed, the world around them all but silent aside from the rustling of trees and the gentle neighs of their nearby horses. The big man tensed, his cock convulsed and strands of seed escape the damp slit.

For a few moments they simply breathed together, a few smiles shared and then Arthur’s eyes rose towards the top of the tent; he frowned. This time, when Arthur growled he did so in an all too familiar rebuke. “Goddamn it John. Why didn’t you… Why can’t you…” Large nostrils flared.

At first John didn’t fully realize the problem until he saw Arthur grab that wetted bandana and try and wipe some of his release from the thick fabric. Somehow John convinced his limbs to work together so he could crawl his naked body right up behind Arthur and placed a hand on his shoulder, admiring a hard ass first before placing a warm, wet kiss against a strong shoulder. “Leave it. Abigail will clean it when we get back.”

Arthur shot him an annoyed glance. “I’m not having your wife clean up after our… our…”

John smiled against sun-kissed skin. “Can’t say it can you?”

“Shut-up Marston.” Arthur grumbled and then dropped his hand as well as his efforts. They both knew the effort was largely wasted anyway. 

The younger man chuckled and gave Arthur a tug. “Just come lie with me. I’ll get it washed in town; I promise. Abigail don’t ever have to know, well she knows, but she won’t see it okay?”

Reluctantly a tired Arthur complied and let John lead him back to their bed rolls. John lied down first and then the older man relaxed beside him. For the first time in a long time, Arthur lay his head against John’s left breast.

“John.” 

“Hmmm.”

“I don’t, don’t mind doing that again, hair gripping and… all.”

Oh. John smiled.


	3. Chapter 3 – Mr. Marston

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Arthur have some cattle an agreement to uphold and cattle to sell. Trips to town never seem to be so simple for the boys, but maybe this time is different... or maybe not.

Arthur frowned as he lay with his head against John’s left breast, his ear picking up the shallow sounds of his lover’s breathing and the steadiness of his heartbeat. It’d been years since he ever laid his head against someone’s chest like this feeling safe maybe in the arms of his then fathers, but not like this, and never felt as satisfied or at peace like this. Still something John said earlier didn’t allow him to fully settle, to really just ease in a too early call to sleep. “How much I cost us John?”

“Hmm?” John asked sleepily.

“You said we’re late in delivering, because of me. I just wanna know how much we’re going to lose because of that.” He worked hard to keep his tone, neutral, devoid of any emotions is what Dutch called that particular attempt; he weren’t good at that.

John lifted his fingers to run along Arthur’s hair and shoulders, pausing to circle near his neck, the rough fingertips feeling nice and reassuring “I never said it was because of you.”

“I got sick.” Arthur felt his cheeks warm, embarrassed by his foolishness, still, and if he cost them their cattle next year, he’d have to make up for that somehow, anyway he could. Weakness or no weakness, he knew how to work and work hard.

“Jack got sick, so did Abigail and so did I. Maybe you hurried yours along but Arthur, it weren’t all your fault.”

Arthur didn’t lift his head, but he glanced upward to see John peering at him. “If we’re in this together, I should just know. Don’t… Don’t hide it from me.” Please, an inner voice whispered but he didn’t actually say the word.

John wiggled his nose briefly, frowned and then answered as carefully as his younger lover knew how to without outright lying. “I’m not really sure, but I didn’t pick the man that gave me the highest price anyhow.”

Arthur sat-up instantly and scowled down at his young lover because what he just heard sounded beyond stupid. “Why’d you go for a lower price? We need the money for supplies and to buy again. You said…”

John sat-up slowly but kept his hand on Arthur’s shoulder. “They’s was old and mean and I just really didn’t like em. The man I made a contract with was, well he was better and seemed honest, and I just think if he is going to punish me for a late delivery it won’t be like those other fellas would. I think it’ll be all right.”

“And you ain’t saying that to make me feel better?” This didn’t sound right. If someone could earn more money, take from them, why wouldn’t they if the law allowed, hell even if the law didn’t?

John grinned. “You know I don’t really do that very well or often. It ain’t in me to just lie to you like that Arthur bout something like this, and you know that. I’m saying it because I think it’s true and because I don’t want you awake tonight with all that worry.” 

Arthur slowly but hesitantly returned the smile. Sure, maybe he didn’t think John had the best instincts in people or animals or even situations in general. The boy took so many shortcuts over the years, under estimated danger and overestimated the money involved too, but this, well maybe this wasn’t so outside his abilities. He found a woman that helped him, a doctor that took their money later and checked in on at the homestead politely, and if he found a compassionate buyer, well all that gave Arthur was hope he didn’t destroy everything by doing what he did. Sides, didn’t just try and remind John there were good folks out there, so how come it was so hard for him to believe it now? “Okay.”

“Okay.” John agreed, lied back down and motioned for Arthur to join him. “I need you keeping me warm.”

Arthur complied and closed his eyes.

“You sure you okay with what happened tonight. It’s not always, you know, the most flattering thing to hear a man is thinking about cattle after he’s had sex with someone.”

He chuckled. “John, maybe I’m doing this thinking because I feel comfortable, easy enough to worry and wonder. Maybe sucking cock ain’t hardly sex anyway.”

“That ain’t so.” John paused. “And?”

And it occurred to Arthur he understood what John was asking now, like it just fell in place what the younger man needed to hear and why, and that felt good to, understanding and knowing a lover enough to not have to use so many words. “Yeah. I’m okay with it. It’ll take some getting used to, but I mostly liked it.”

“Mostly.”

“John, we ain’t going to lie here all night and talk about your cock.”

“In your mouth.”

“John…” This time he growled a warning, and the younger man submitted appropriately even if he could feel the younger man smile. After long enough silence, they fell asleep Arthur reckoned around the same time.

With the sun shining through the tent, it was easy for Arthur to get up and start the coffee, so they could have good coffee for once these past weeks, real good coffee. When John emerged not much later and began checking on the horses and the cattle, Arthur drank his coffee and pondered how so much had changed. John got up without anyone needing to kick him or yell at him, the man even gave him a sort of smile instead of the I’m grumpy because I got up with the sun attitude and came back to eat the rolls Abigail sent with them and the fish too, without complaint. By the time they began to travel along the river with the herd, Arthur felt almost relaxed although he kept an eye for anything suspicious, animal or manmade.

For the rest of the trip took which only a few days without much trouble or hurry, Arthur let John just prattle on about plans for the spring and summer, wanting a bunkhouse not too far from the house for safety and to keep any noise down but close enough to keep an eye on things and make anyone in there useful. He wanted a bull for breeding, a big one which meant they needed a bull pen. Arthur mostly listened during these voiced ideas of John’s, but it got him thinking, thinking about what could’ve been. Why, why couldn’t they have just got the land like Dutch said they were, made these buildings, set up like they had in Colter except near a river or lake, where the land was rich? Why couldn’t they all just’ve made a living of it away from all that heat, all that death? Maybe it’d always been a fool’s dream, but here they were trying to make a go without, without…

“Arthur.”

Arthur blinked and rose his head slightly to see John and Rachel alongside them, real close like, the younger man looking kind of worried. “What John?”

“I was asking you some questions, and you weren’t really responding.”

“Sorry, just thinking.”

“About what?”

Arthur shook his head. No, now wasn’t the time to look back when they were already worried about this sale going forward. “Nothing important.” It was a lie as good as any lie, but it weren’t a deep one.

John got that look on his face, a mixture of pouting and annoyance merging together until he looked like a kid again, put out because Arthur wouldn’t tell or show him everything. “I thought we were getting closer than that.”

He let a sigh slip before reeling it in proper like. “We any closer than being brothers and lovers, we’d be the same person John. Sometimes I just gotta, just gotta keep a little of mine. I won’t…” Arthur paused. “I’ll tell you in good time, almost always do.”

That expression softened a little as John nodded, accepting the rebuke, at least for now. “Okay then. I was saying we’re going to take them to the auction house. I hope the man or his men will be there as they often is. If they are, we won’t have to stay but a day or two; if they ain’t we might have to wait. Like before, you can get a room at the inn and a bath if you want, then we can meet up at the saloon?”

“I’d like to stay for the exchange if there is going to be one. If that’s all right.” That felt strange on his tongue, asking John, John Marston of all people, to be present while he made business arrangements. Arthur was a part of a family now, a part of this ranch, but how exactly he’d fit in to all this, Arthur wasn’t as sure as John seemed to be. It didn’t feel right being treated like a hired hand, but he wasn’t meant to take over either, shouldn’t demand things of John like he used to. This was John’s plan, John’s future and John’s… right to have a life like this. Arthur just needed something to feel like he was something that didn’t even really have a name to it which made it even harder to explain to anyone else.

Naturally John just smiled as the tiny town came into view and gave a quick nod. “All right. We try and finish this sale, then we get the hotel room and bath.”

“Not sure we need a bath with how easy it’s been to have one at home.”

“Oh that ain’t about need. It’s about wanting you nice and shiny for me when I win big at the tables.”

Arthur snorted briefly. He’d slightly forgotten about John’s big “plans” for their first evening in town after the sale. Unless the boy’s luck had changed recently, he wasn’t expecting much of a celebration. Since he’d all but given his word to let this all play out, Arthur gave a brief nod instead of a reply, thankful they didn’t need to talk even more about having sex as they rode in. John and his damn talking made sex more awkward than needed to be, but he sure was lucky to have someone that close to his heart who actually wanted him as he was.

The livestock pens here were pretty small, just as Arthur remembered. There was no railway to this tiny place and anyone who purchased here would have to lead them further away. At least they had post and regular wagon travel, even a couple rich enough folks in the area to get some interesting things in the store. Arthur still had some money from the ten dollar John gave… he’d earned, so he might get a chance to go in there and look around, pick up some gun oil and a new leather cloth to use it with. Sure his guns might be nothing compared to what he used to have, but he’d started with less in life than he had now. A smile formed because somehow he’d managed to lose so much but gain everything. That seemed like something one of Dutch’s books might’ve said, but only now did it make any lick of sense.

Figuring it was good practice for John’s patience and skill, he let the younger man take lead in getting the cattle into the pens, with some humorous missteps, and dismounted nearby once they were all inside where the auction hands got a chance to close the gates tight. John approached a man in a smoky grey suit with a simple navy blue bowler hat, a smart looking jacket, not too worn boots, and sporting tidy dark mustache. He leaned against a nearby fence and watched them looking too lean and soft to be a hand but too hardened to be a rich man and idle.

“Mr. Aaron.” John offered his hand, and the man accepted with a firm shake.

“Mr. Marston.” The man replied. “I started to get worried something had come up and got in the way of your plans to sell me your herd.”

John gave a nervous laugh and glanced at Arthur as he approached. “Well, you know, some troubles but nothing I couldn’t take care of.”

“Good to hear it.” Light brown eyes moved from John to Arthur. “I didn’t realize you’d hired anyone on.”

John quickly shook his head. “Oh no sir. This here is my brother, my brother Arthur Marston.”

Goddamn it John. Arthur felt his head spin, but only briefly. He hadn’t spent all those years with Dutch and Hosea without figuring out how to respond to fake names on his feet… except this weren’t that was it? This felt like, well it felt like John trying to show he was committed only he did it in a stupid way because there was no way John knew if Arthur had ever given his name out to folks here, and this was a man they’d probably do business with in the future. “Nice to meet you.” They shook hands.

“Brother huh?” Mr. Aaron rose his brow slightly. “You two don’t look much alike if you don’t mind me saying. Different mothers I assume?”

“Yes.” “No.”

John tried hard not to look at him, and Arthur really wanted to hit him right now.

For his part, Mr. Aaron just laughed lowly. “It’s all right boys. You wouldn’t be the first fellas around here not to know their father. It’s a small town. Do your part, and it won’t matter none.”

John gave Arthur a brief but obviously nervous glance he could only hope would be played off as embarrassment at being caught with the family business in the air. “I know I’m a few days late, but I swear to you that it was with good reason.”

The old man raised his hand slightly and shook his head. “No need for explanation Mr. Marston, Mr. Marston. I had a couple of visitors over the past number of days. Dr. Higgins came by to let me know the Marston household had fallen poor due to illness, although he expected you to make a good recovery and soon with such strong bodies there, he thought you might be slowed up a bit. I thought he also said Arthur was a friend, but no matter, such details go over a man more concerned about bodies than society. Mrs. Greene also paid me a visit.”

John visibly shifted at the mention of her, but Arthur did his best to remain solid, unemotional and threatening like he’d often done standing behind Dutch. He just didn’t really know how else to be in these situations when he weren’t the one doing the talking and negotiating. 

“You know Mrs. Greene?” John asked.

“Oh yes. Her husband may be, if he don’t mind me saying, a poor business man, a terrible poker player and a tad too indulgent in the saloon, but Mrs. Greene’s family has been in the area for quite some time. They own no small amount of land, and helped build this town even. Her extended family owns the local hotel and a fine stables not far from here; she has money in the lumber yard and timber mill herself. And might I say she was most adamant that I not penalize you for tending to your family proper like when I voiced my ill content with having to wait some for your arrival. If you follow me, I’ll get you your note, and you can make good on your loan from that store order you came in with and maybe buy the misses a new hat. My wife tells me they have a few nice ones in the store right now, even a pretty bonnet might appeal if she not too fond of hats.”

John and Arthur hung back slightly as they distantly followed the man inside. “You think if I say if I might say I can get away with saying anything I want too?”

“I am too goddamn mad at you John to talk right now. Just shut your mouth and get the damn note.” Arthur carefully kept his voice to a low growl, but with all the swirling emotions settling in his stomach, there was no possible way he couldn’t tell the man how he felt, right that minute. 

John glanced at him, and wisely said not a word as they waited for their note.

Once they had the note in hand to take to the bank, well Arthur still decided now wasn’t the time to talk either, so he waited near the bank door for John to finish his business while mulling those two words together, Arthur Marston, and wondering if he was angry because John really threw him off balance with that one or if it was something else. Had he ever introduced himself as Arthur Morgan here, no, no probably not? Leave it John to think staying low and being a part of a community meant voicing risky things like this in the hopes of what making him feel, him feel…

“Arthur.”

Arthur blinked at John dumbly realizing the younger man stood in front of him and stared at him expectantly. 

“John.” He replied carefully not wanting to reveal his mind had taken him so profoundly, again, he was unaware of anything going on around him.

Dark brown eyes continued to peer at him suspiciously, but he realized John wasn’t certain if he caught him with his head in the clouds or not. “Going to wire my payment at the post office, meet me at the saloon.” John reached into his pocket and gave Arthur three dollars. “For your drinks.”

“I know what it’s for.” Arthur replied tensely, not quite settled on what feelings he should be having and certainly not what he was actually having towards for John right now. All he knew is he didn’t want to be in public.

John visibly hesitated. “You wanna, wanna get us a room?”

“Sure.” Arthur fled.

Or at least that’s what it felt like when he turned and walked away heading towards the hotel with as quick a walking pace as he could manage without actually running, seeking the relief of a minute or two in a private room, escaping like a goddamn coward, some flustered maiden. It really, well it would’ve deflated his insides except his heart weren’t pounding like it was. Arthur Marston. Shit. He forgot to tell John not to dare get a ring, but when he turned around the younger man was nowhere in sight. Cursing softly again to himself, Arthur entered the familiar hotel paid his dollar for a room and another fifty cents for two baths. Even if it solidified his act of cowardice, Arthur retreated to the quiet, welcoming room of a hot bath to delay dealing with John a little longer. He didn’t intend to stay in there too long or accept deluxe services, hell the fact the bath wasn’t too hot that it turned his skin pink made him even think of his lover more, but at least it gave him a moment to close his eyes, relax everything so he could take it all in without prying eyes watching him. John introduced him as Arthur Marston which meant brother to most the world but to them, at home, he was going around telling everyone they were married.


	4. Chapter 4 – Friendly Interactions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phew. Beer at last. A saloon, cards, and good money from the sale, so how come our boys are not happy?

John watched Arthur retreat, or at least that’s what it looked like his partner was doing when the older man just accepted instructions from him, just like that, turned and hightailed it straight for the hotel. He frowned slightly, glancing back towards the bank with no small amount of puzzlement. Now John wasn’t stupid, not like he often claimed or others accused him of being. He knew exactly what bothered Arthur, understood that he sprung that little surprise on his lover right in front of their business partner giving him no privacy in which to react to it. Assuming Arthur got around to telling her what happened, Abigail would do what she often did when deciding to lecture John about something with their relationship, wait for John to climb into the bed later that night, turn the lamp off and just when they were getting cozy and deciding if it was straight to the pillow or little fun, she’d ask him the hell he was thinking doing it that way with Arthur. The thing was, when he realized he was about to introduce Arthur as his brother, as a man he’d grown up with and became family almost since the moment they met and fought and learned to tolerate one another, John knew saying that again just wasn’t right; it just didn’t feel like enough anymore. Arthur would’ve told him it didn’t matter, wasn’t worth the risk. Maybe he could buy that killing bad folks wasn’t worth the risk, that finding Micah might not be worth everything they had even though he really wanted the man dead. Maybe going after Bill or Javier… Dutch might be too risky with too little to gain, but showing Arthur he loved him, all the time, even when they weren’t sleeping together, or having sex and just exchanging warm smiles, that he was willing and able to make a real commitment, that was worth it. Why some man he’d met twice decided it was time to make some real personal inquiries about their parents… okay so maybe he didn’t think anyone would even bother to ask about that. He wasn’t prepared for the answer even though he could’ve sold the story either way. And maybe he should’ve realized Arthur still struggled with letting him lead in these situations so expecting him to listen to his answer so the man could follow, weave a real quality story like Hosea and Dutch had them do was a miscalculation on his part. It didn’t seem to matter though. Mr. Aaron didn’t care either way, and what kind of last name was Aaron anyway? John always thought that was a man’s first name.

Sighing, John kept his money tucked on his person, deep inside his vest, and headed to the saloon. Arthur would show-up eventually because no matter what his brother and now lover was then and was now, he sure weren’t no coward. Hiding in a hotel room all night long was beneath the older man, still. Sure Arthur might retreat when he needed to retreat, but that was only temporary, only right now. So at the saloon John ordered a beer, went to the card table and began what he hoped would be a great night of just being a man with other men playing poker, and doing his darnest to get their hard earned money right from under their noses.

There was something wholesome about the smell of old beer on the floor, cigar and cigarette smoke floating in the air and the permeation of too much perfume from any ladies nearby that made his heart glad. His first few hands were a total bust, fifty cents down, a cocky red-head to his right and a pock marked bastard with too many missing teeth on his left. Neither of them looked especially wealthy anyway, but the guy across from him with a handkerchief in his pocket, a pocket watch and an eager expression for having a night off from the misses, John labeled him an easy mark. Maybe he didn’t mean to lose the first few hands, but the next ones, of course he did, and he kept losing, letting that one gain confidence so he might drop some big money when John got a real good hand. By the time he was on his second beer and began to earn some of his money back, he glanced to the side just in time to see Arthur walk in and take a seat at the bar.

Arthur glanced at him, gave him a chance to acknowledge his arrival, but that was it. If he was mad or scared or hell even not wanting to be there at all, John just couldn’t tell. Guarded Morgan was hard to read, even for those who’d known him the longest like John and Dutch although he’d bet his last dollar right now that Hosea might’ve known what to say or do if he were here. John sometimes stood a chance if he could watch Arthur closely and get a read on the situation, but when the larger and older man took a seat at the counter as his husband, well it was just all too new to know for sure how it was all going. Arthur did clean up a bit in the hotel, combed his hair but otherwise it would’ve been like any other day of catching Arthur at the bar drinking a beer and soon striking up conversation with a nearby gentleman in a black vest, with shiny new boots, a slick polished gun and an easy smile. Hell that man looked almost charming, and his laugh came off easy enough too. When it became apparent Arthur and this stranger started talking about something, John let his mind wander, and he completely lost track of what he was doing and lost another hand. Damn it. Now this was not part of the plan. Arthur wasn’t supposed to be at the table so John could focus on his opponents, win against strangers… except every once in a while he would glance at the two smiling and laughing with each other over something and just… bristle. That man had no business touching Arthur on the shoulder like that, or giving him so much attention, or paying for his shot of whiskey. John accepted another beer and downed it quickly, swallowing his pride and growing agitation. His mood shifted too swiftly, and he started getting aggressive, real serious like at the table, taking their nickels, dimes and quarters until the red-head quietly retreated and then the pock marked man. A few others joined, and the pots got bigger, the insults meaner and everything became a blur of coins, cards and Arthur’s hefty laughter.

**

Arthur found John easily enough. There was only one real saloon in the place, and he was exactly where he said he’d be, for once, at the table playing cards. Arthur figured he’d get a chance to play, eventually, but not today, not when John had this strange urge to win a few bucks and celebrate afterward. There’d be a chance to talk about things, to argue some or a lot, but now wasn’t it. They were just a couple of ranchers, brothers, getting a few drinks after a coming to town to sell their herd. This was normal, a real life, and a chance to just keep an ear out for what was happening around these parts but mostly to relax and try not and think about what just occurred at the animal pens… except John kept looking at him.

At first Arthur wondered if John expected a warmer nod, a smile even when he came in. It just felt, well they weren’t at home, and the outlaw in him wasn’t about to go around any part of town grinning like some newlywed idiot. He did his best to ignore his younger companion and focused on the beer in front of him until a man next to him spoke up.

“You look like you’ve had one hell of a day.”

Arthur huffed lowly, weighing his options on how to respond. It weren’t right anymore to pick fights in a town they’d be known at, intended to do business in and certainly not get the attention of a sheriff while doing so. That didn’t mean he had to talk to anyone or indulge insults cept the man didn’t look like he meant much by his comment. He’d wager Hosea would’ve told him the man was just making conversation and reminded Arthur not to get so harsh and violent when it wasn’t necessary. He didn’t really know John was looking at him again thinking about Hosea either, but he decided to follow his lost father’s guidance just the same. “It’s been a day.” Arthur admitted, without any detail.

The other man’s brown eyes lit up ever so slightly, and he just seemed eager to have someone to talk to. If he were a praying man, Arthur would’ve prayed he didn’t just set himself up for hours of torture while Marston sat over there losing all his money. Marston. Shit. He shouldn’t be thinking of John like that anymore right, not if he was to be, was already, a Marston too? The whole damn thing was just confusing because men weren’t meant to change their name, and now having endured this for just an hour or so, Arthur wondered how all them women out there handled it so well. 

He felt like his identity got turned upside down and spilled on the floor, right in front of everyone, and damn it to hell he reckoned John did that on a whim too. Who the hell was Arthur Morgan if he weren’t even Arthur Morgan anymore, and when did John get enough say to even make that happen? Was it trust or was it…

“I’ve been traveling by wagon for three full days now. I would’ve taken the train, but it’d hardly be much faster the homestead being off the tracks as far as it is, and then the darn thing busted a wheel real bad. We gotta wait a night, maybe two, for the blacksmith to straighten everything out and get us back on track. Whatcha in for?”

Arthur laughed, a genuine rough sound because when he looked at the man, handsome face, eager expression, too soft for a laborer so he figured a city man or a business of sorts, he seemed serious. In for, talk like they was in prison or jail or something, but the man just meant being tired or put out, not like he knew he was talking to a hardened man who’d been in too many jails to count and busted a few out of prison while he was at it. It was a good distraction at least, especially since he didn’t have a good way to go back to the hotel without advertising how bothered he still was about everything. “Not much in comparison, just some work and now a few drinks before heading back.”

“You don’t live in town?”

“Do I look like I live in town?” That was rougher than he meant, but the other man only grinned. 

“Nah, too coarse for a local fella I guess. Tim Gibson.” He offered a hand.

Arthur accepted. “Arthur M, Arthur Marston.” Hundreds of fake names before with less notice, if any at all, than he had in advance to use this one and here he was stumbling along like a first timer. 

Tim gave a nod and drank more of his beer. “Arthur, Arthur’s a good name, not like Timothy, not like that silliness.”

“I wager you’ve not downed enough beers yet to start talking nonsense… or have you even finished your first one?”

Tim slapped him not too hard on the back and laughed. “You’ve pegged me right mister Marston, not even the first one. You see, I’ve been not liking my name since I was a boy. I don’t know why my folks decided to torment as they did but here I am, Tim. Tim is better than Timothy at least. Hard and firm, just how I like them.”

Arthur gave a dry laugh, met the man’s eyes after a moment and then returned to his beer, downing it quickly and ordering another. “Like I said, nonsense.”

Tim waved for the bartender. “Whiskey for my friend here and myself.”

Arthur glanced at him briefly. “Hardly even started your second beer.”

“Something tells me we won’t have any trouble drinking more. Say, you come here with anyone?”

“Come here?” Arthur frowned because the man just seemed a bit odd right now but friendly enough.

“Yeah, you know, in here with someone?”

“It’s a strange question to ask Gibson. You gotta reason to be asking?”

“There’s a young fella at that card table that keeps looking at you, or me. I figure it might even be both, glaring like.” Tim motioned behind them.

Arthur turned to see John quickly try to pretend like he weren’t looking over here and sighed. Any misgivings he had about this man went out the window when he realized John had a stick in his craw about some damn thing. He came into the saloon didn’t he? Ordered drinks like he was supposed to, left the card table alone, so only the good Lord knew what the hell his lover was surly about now. Love, husband, brother… hell he couldn’t even keep it all straight in his head anymore. “That’s just John. He’s my, well he’s my brother.”

“Really!” Tim spoke loud enough to get the attention of not only John but a few others.

“Settle down some or I’m going have to insist you not touch that whiskey.” Now that did come off a lot more threatening and deep than Arthur intended, and Tim’s eyes widened as a result.

“Yeah, yeah. Sorry about that.” Tim didn’t seem too put off by it though and finished his beer.

“S’ alright.” Arthur murmured only partially content to drink a bit in silence. Without anything to focus on, he was left to contemplate the one person in his life that managed to dominate everything these days, John, and that was the last thing he wanted to do right now, in public even.

“Say you know you could wilt a flower?”

Arthur turned to Gibson again, weighing his words as either an insult or something strange again. “Cuse me?”

“With that deep voice of yours I mean. When you said I best not overstep again… It was like watching one of them stage shows with a villain that holds everyone up.”

“I didn’t really…”

“It’s okay. I was being obnoxious. I know it. I often know it. I just don’t hold my liquor real well, and a voice like yours, I dare say in the dark of the night that might just cause a man to soil himself or you know, other things.”

Arthur grinned and drank more beer before he slammed his free shot of whiskey. “If you only knew.” He glanced behind them to see John leave the card table and go outside. A part of him wanted to instantly follow, make sure everything was okay, but the reasonable side reminded himself this was what John wanted, a normal night out, a chance not to be a father or a rancher or some duty bound citizen for a little while which meant he should sit tight cause Marston was likely to return soon after relieving himself, nothing more exciting than that. And of course the younger man did just that, returned after a couple of minutes to the table but not without throwing Arthur a really foul look.

Old Arthur wouldn’t of thought twice about marching over there, starting an argument with the pouty brat and then hitting him real hard no matter what he said to defend that attitude. Hell, if John ever truly found out how many times their arguments were going to turn into brawls no matter what he said or did because Arthur sometimes felt like just fighting something, anyone, and John made for a pretty convenient target, he’d likely not hear the end of it. But right now, right here, well John did good. He got the cattle sold, sat at the card table and did exactly what he said he intended to be doing, and all that after the nonsense he pulled with the buyer looking right at them. So why in the Sam’s Hill was John giving him that look for just sitting at the counter drinking? No. No he was not about to enter this new part of their relationship with that boy pitching fits all the time, glares or otherwise. “Just see to it that you keep steady in my presence.”

The man’s eyes widened again, and Arthur began to wonder why Gibson kept sitting by him if he found him so threatening. Did he move that stool closer even? It was like he was just, well drawn to him or something. That couldn’t be right, could it? 

Arthur ordered another beer and only frowned slightly when he found his too friendly neighbor setting out coins to pay for that one too. Before he could say anything though an all too familiar hand slammed on top of the coins. 

“I’ll get this one, and we’ll take it to go.” John insisted, that glare he shot their way earlier now squarely fixed on Mr. Gibson and not Arthur at all.

The barkeep gave Arthur a look, a curious and questioning gaze that seemed to ask if he should accept money from either of them. Arthur stood, produced the coins himself, and took the beer. He gave a brief nod to Mr. Gibson. “G’night.” And left John standing there rebuked without another word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This didn't... flow as well as I wanted it too, but the transition in POV could've been rougher, I think.


	5. Chapter 5 – Promises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emotions are running high, and a conversation should be had. There is just one problem: neither Arthur and John learned how to have great heart to heart conversations, and laying things on the table between two outlaws could get, shall we say, rough.

Arthur walked with purpose through the dark street, his boots heavy and his strides angry. This provided a stark contrast to the last time they walked together in this town at night, after their fine meal where his older lover seemed so hell bent on not having a good time and being angry, but in the end things calmed down to the point where John thought for sure some stupid fella would wind up coming into their room with a death wish after seeing them walk so close in the street like that. Stupid men often misjudged them, thinking they might cause trouble and not knowing they were about to face down two outlaws with quick draws and only recently reformed opinions about maybe not killing others too quick like. But John knew better than to get too close now because in the mood he was in, Arthur was just as likely punch him right in the face as he was to return any sort of affection. Sure, later the blonde might feel sorry, probably even do more than ever needed to do to make up for a black eye or a broken nose, but this just wasn’t how John imagined celebrating their good fortune today. Of course the few minutes he took on dreaming up winning at the card table and getting to go back to roll around on the bed with Arthur got a little slanted when he said Arthur Marston and some asshole at the counter began flirting and touching… and touching Arthur like he was... No. No. This wouldn’t do. They had to have this out right now to save the rest of trip, and those walls in that hotel were too damn thin for the kind of shouting they were about to have.

“Get your horse!” John called out.

Arthur froze, stood still for a minute and then slowly turned to face him. His older partner didn’t say anything at this point, just sort of glowered at him real intense like, and that was probably one of the scariest things John seen Arthur do since he came back from that mountain. 

They stood several paces apart, in the dark, in the street. A few people walking by paused and looked at them with one person slamming their door as if they were expecting a duel right here. That’s how commanding the big man looked right now, and John did mean big. Maybe he should’ve noticed it a lot sooner, but boy had Arthur gained weight and muscle again, not at all the body that saved his life months ago or even the one that returned to them and eventually joined his bed nearly a season later. There was no way in hell his brother, his lover, would shoot him in the street or anywhere else right now, but boy did the very idea sort of send a shiver up John’s spine, one equal measure fear and equal measure arousal. And to think that spineless, thin twig in the saloon thought he had chance with his Arthur? Over his dead body.

John hurried towards Arthur, deciding they’d made enough of a spectacle of themselves, but he still wanted that talk. “Arthur we need to get out of the street…” And then he hit the ground.

At first John lied on the ground looking up at the partially cloudy open sky in confusion before the throbbing began and realization began to sink in. “You, you hit me!”

“You knew I would.” Arthur replied tensely as he walked over and reached down to help haul John to his feet again.

John accepted and tried to blink away the unclear vision while reaching up to tenderly touch the blood leaking from his nose. Son of a bitch, Arthur punched him in the face!

Arthur’s coarse fingers moved along the bridge of his nose. “I don’t think it’s broken.”

“Ouch!” John’s delayed response and attempt to bat away those thick fingers only caused the other man to snicker. “I can’t believe you did that!”

By now the onlookers decided they had better things to do than watch a truly boring and weak argument between two men not hankering to kill one another. “You know what your problem is John?”

“Do you want a list, or can I start with the fact that my brother…” And John emphasized that word real good hoping Arthur would know it meant lover, brother, partner all that shit wrapped into one. “Is a violent criminal who just punched me in the face?”

Arthur huffed and shook his head; oddly those fine eyes seemed to shine like they had stars in them, or maybe John was just still seeing them after the hard hit he took. “You knew what would happen if you came up to me out here like that, when I’m still mad like I am, and you did it anyway.”

“You think you know me so well.” John challenged, despite knowing Arthur was exactly right.

“Tell me I’m wrong.”

John blinked a few times and tweaked his nose, reluctantly accepting a handkerchief Arthur held out to him. He wasn’t going to lie, so John didn’t say anything.

Arthur sighed, and just like that, the outlaw, the man who could pound someone into the ground and just leave them there sort of eased off, and the man who spent the past months playing house with John and his family returned. “I don’t know why you insisted on pushing me like that John.”

After taking an experimental breath and realizing there’d be bruising and not much else, John wiped his nose and glared at the other man. “I gave you my name.”

“You forced it on me in an ambush in front of your business partner.”

“Our business partner.” John corrected immediately. “Who gave us the asking price and lifted all that worry you had.”

“As if I could continue worrying about that after you messed up your own damn story.”

“How can I mess up my story? Maybe you should just learn to follow better. After all those years with Hosea and Dutch, I’d think you’d be better at it by now!” John’s voice rose a little, but they weren’t so much shouting as this point but angrily hissing at each other because they were still in town and somehow, somehow managed to remember that.

“Two different fathers John? Why the hell would two brothers with the same last name have two different fathers?” Arthur glowered at him again, his nostrils flaring and thick fingers subtle like turning into fists again.

And of course John realized his mistake and why that outlaw shadow started poking around Arthur’s eyes again. He just accused his brother, the right hand man of their former gang, and someone who’d followed Hosea and Dutch tirelessly, of not being good at the very thing he was best at, above all others. Okay. Think, think. There were ways to defuse this by playing to his heart, and his emotions and… and just saying the truth. “Maybe, maybe he could’ve adopted you, me... I don’t know Arthur. I just… I didn’t want him to think you were just some half or lesser brother who wound up bunking at my ranch when you mean so much to me. I couldn’t… couldn’t stand the thought of people thinking that.”

Arthur lifted his chin slightly, glanced behind John’s shoulder and then glanced around as if only now really concerned that others might think they might be saying and doing something odd. “Why does it matter to you what others think John?”

John cautiously took one step forward and then another. “It’s always mattered to me. You know that. I wanted you proud of me. I wanted Dutch proud of me, and I couldn’t stand to think Hosea really believed I was dumb. I just… in this world we got, there’s no way for us to be closer than brothers in front of everyone else, and if they called you Morgan it just wouldn’t seem like you’re part of the Marston family when you are. When someone says the Marston family, I want you included, always.”

After some silence Arthur grabbed his upper-arm and started marching them towards a near bit of wilderness, some trees bundled together near what looked like a graveyard. Fortunately he didn’t march them into the fenced area but got them far enough away that John didn’t even mind that those fingers might leave some bruising on his arm. 

Once Arthur found a big enough tree to turn his back to he looked John straight in the eye and spoke. “What the hell was that back with Mr. Gibson?”

“Who?” John said it without thinking twice because he was processing the fact that Arthur moving the conversation along not only meant that he heard what John said about the Marston name but might actually mean he accepted it to. 

The glare returned, and Arthur didn’t voice an actual response.

“That man at the counter, flirting with you?”

Arthur snorted. “John, that man was not flirting.”

“To hell he wasn’t. He had his hands all over you!” It was probably good they weren’t in the middle of the street anymore because John felt the blood rush to his head straight away when those memories came flooding back along with the anger they instilled.

“Men sometimes buy men drinks at the counter John. It don’t mean nothing.”

“And what did he say to you Arthur, exactly?” John challenged watching the confusion and annoyance play across his companion’s handsome face. 

“Nothing important. What the hell did you think I was going to do all night while you played cards John? You couldn’t have expected me to just go upstairs and wait around for my MAN to come home did you?” Oh the way he said that, almost hissed as a threat in the ways Dutch used to dare some folks to keep going. Except John figured he’d been hit tonight once already, what was another punch or two if it got them through this?

“Of course not. I expected you to have a few drinks and enjoy yourself.”

“And I was until you showed up like some puffed up rooster for no damn reason at all.”

John leaned in closer, narrowed his eyes and just studied his older lover real hard noticing that for a second Arthur actually looked uncomfortable under the gaze and really mixed up. Holy hell. The man really hadn’t seen it. “Jesus Arthur. Two years you said? No doubt you probably could’ve had a dozen lovers if they only knew they had to whip it all out just to get your attention.”

Arthur blinked and seemed too surprised to really respond, at least not right away. After a few moments of recovery, his growl came back. “What the hell did you just say to me?”

John was too annoyed and frankly disappointed to be worried about any further random acts of violence. He should’ve had every right to be angry, watching that man and his Arthur get on at the counter like they were… only, only it seemed like Arthur really didn’t know. “That man was two steps away from asking you to join him in an alley Arthur. He was buying you drinks, hell did you tell him you were an outlaw once?”

“And blow our happy little lives wide open after running around telling everyone we’re just a couple of brothers with a ranch. Why the hell would I do that?”

“Well you’re not stupid Arthur. Did he seem like, well did he seem like he knew? What was he saying to you?” John waited expectantly although he really didn’t need to hear it since he got a front seat view of the whole thing.

This time Arthur stepped away from the tree and frowned briefly, pacing a bit as if he was really trying to take John’s allegation to heart. “Oh I don’t know. He was rambling on about how hard my name was or something. He thought I was too coarse for a townsman and said something about my voice…”Arthur stopped and raised a hand to his chin.

“How hard your name is…” John wanted to go right back to that saloon and slam that man’s face right into the counter right now. Once he spent the night in jail, he was sure he could come up with some reasonable story as to why he did and just pay the damn fine. He knew what had been going on, and he doubted a man like Gibson would dare press it further once John’s scarred face and hot fury filled eyes informed the city boy of John’s particular techniques while using a gun and busting fingers.

“And firm…”

John blinked. “And what?”

“Firm.”

Arthur kind of mumbled that word and then scratched the back of his head. “But John he was just in town because of some broken wagon part. It’s not like he was going to stick around. Are you sure…”

John cut him off, his voice probably too loud now. “Oh perfect Arthur. Gets stuck in town for a few nights and winds up screwing a real cowboy. It’s like a city man’s perfect set-up. Jesus.” John turned and started walking back to the hotel. He wasn’t even sure who to be madder at right now, Arthur for being such an idiot, himself for not realizing how clueless the man was about his appeal, or Gibson for being… no definitely Gibson. That man was lucky he didn’t follow them into the street. With the heat bubbling up inside him, still, it was very likely this Gibson would’ve wound up on the ground with a hole in his head. 

“John.” Arthur grabbed his shoulder and spun him around. 

The uncertainty, the unease, John wasn’t going to be able to stay mad at Arthur for long when looked like that. Damn. It wasn’t fair. “The man says your name is hard and firm, pays for your drinks and you wanna know why I’m mad?”

“He was talking all sorts of nonsense. I wasn’t even really listening. I was just waiting for you to finish your hands, so we could go to our room.”

John glanced at Arthur’s hand on his shoulder and gave the man a slight smile. “Where you would start tearing into me about your new name?”

“I wasn’t ready John.” Arthur admitted quietly. 

A lump formed in John’s throat. “To be, to be married to me because if, if you don’t want to be…”

“No, no not that. I mean yes that but not like you’re thinking.”

John suddenly grabbed Arthur’s hand and tugged him back towards the hotel. 

Arthur resisted for a moment and then started following. “John?”

“We’re done with the yelling part, so we can go back to our room now.” John paused. “And no one but family has the right to see you all vulnerable and emotional like I know you wanna be right now, but you’re fighting it.” And then John stopped and blinked in realization. Was that, was that the source of the anger? Was that what he’d just done to Arthur earlier, put him in a spot where he wanted to react emotionally but couldn’t? It’s what Dutch would’ve done, what they were all doing all those years, and Arthur just, well he just learned to accept his role, the right hand man who had everything together, cleaned up their messes but never really showed what he felt, never reveled all that stuff he put in his journal. “I’m sorry.” He whispered softly.

“John…”

“I didn’t, I didn’t think that me saying that in front of all those people meant you couldn’t really tell or show me what you were feeling about it.” John turned to face him. “And that’s why you ran off on me.”

Arthur huffed. “I didn’t run.”

John smirked briefly. “Well, yeah you pretty much did.”

“There was no running John.” Arthur took a breath but kept going to the hotel. “Come on John. I think we’ve given the good folks of this town enough to wonder about.”

John followed. He weren’t much of a follower on his best days, but tonight, well he followed because he just wanted to be where Arthur was.


	6. Chapter 6 – This Night is Ours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John has his winnings, a bruised nose, and a deep desire.
> 
> Arthur doesn't know what he has, but he knows it's something. Maybe another night with John will help him figure it out.

When they got to their room and locked the door, there were awkward minutes where the two of them just sort of stood near the bed not doing and not saying anything. For the first time since John said the words Arthur Marston, Arthur felt himself just able breathe. He’d been wound up so tight since those precious seconds John decided it was time to tell everyone, in his own way, they were married, and nothing felt just right until John grabbed his hand in the street and made it real clear he wanted no one else seeing the rest of this, made it clear he was willing to give them that, give Arthur what he needed. Until these priceless minutes Arthur thought what he might need was to be alone except having John around actually felt comforting in a way, kept Arthur from remembering to think about all the reasons in this world why he shouldn’t have someone wanting to be tied to him until death. And even though John explained why he did it, and Arthur got a chance to discharge some stress by getting him good in the nose, which they both knew he could’ve broken easily if he wanted to, it felt like neither of them knew what to do right now. How come, after all this time, it still felt strange to have someone watching after his heart like this?

Looking at John, with a bruised nose he’d wiped clean with the help of a nearby washbasin… well the younger man somehow managed to look hopeful, eager and discouraged all at the same time. It reminded him of a puppy he knew once, and Arthur just recognized he needed to at least try and figure all this out with John instead of relying on his lover, his… husband to do it mostly alone this time. “So John, the night you got, you got married to Abigail, what did you do?”

John gave a brief if uncertain smile. “We were married a long time before that. It was just making it official and all.”

“I, I know.” Arthur replied quietly. “You and I, we won’t be able to do the official part, but I figure since you’ve been married once before you might know what to do, you know, what’s next. Did you talk before you, well you got in the bed…?”

“Well I didn’t punch her in the nose, that’s for sure.”

Arthur chuckled, the tension slowly melting away with that silly smile of John’s while Arthur shook his head in response, taking his brown hat and setting it on their chair before slowly removing his coat and boots too. “You ain’t getting an apology from me.”

“Cause you’re not sorry?” John took a seat on the bed and just sort of watched him, steady like. 

“Because you deserved it.” Arthur sighed after a moment. Maybe he needed to stop thinking about John like they were bickering brothers right now. Were bickering lovers that much different? “But…”

“I did.” 

Arthur regarded him suspiciously. No matter what they did moving forward, there was no denying they learned from a couple of cons, and that meant they both had a tendency to do what they thought moved things forward instead of actually figuring out how to fix what needed fixing.

“I deserved it.” John took off his hat and set it on the nearby nightstand. “I knew all that stuff was swirling inside you, and I pushed anyway. Hosea always said I never knew when to let you cool-off. It’s why we were fighting so much, well sometimes not every time I guess. This time, it felt, well felt important not to have you leave like that, after what happened today. We needed to wind up in this room tonight, together. I wanted us to ride away and have a talk, but I guess landing me in the street worked out okay.”

Arthur joined him on the bed. The talking part was the hardest, even now. “You think, you think he’d be okay with us being as we are, being together?”

“Pretty sure Hosea just wanted us to be happy in the end.” John removed his coat and boots too. “And I think he would’ve wanted me to at least give you a ring.”

“John…”

“If you put one on, we can just say you’re a widower.”

Arthur glanced at the window. The curtains seemed a little duller this time and the lights from the small town not nearly as bright. The blonde realized the curtains just didn’t offer what they had before, safety, hiding because deep down he just didn’t want to hide from John and not many others even mattered. He’d still want the curtains closed and the lights dimmed because at some point John was going to realize this night was going to end one way, and that kind of excitement caused his lover to lose all manner of sense, and well, they were still two men in love which meant all sorts of trouble around civilized folks. “And when they ask about the woman?”

“Tell them the truth.” John offered, taking care of his straps and then shirt and pants. “Tell them you lost someone who meant a lot to you, and it still hurts.” John didn’t specify who; John didn’t have to.

Arthur returned his gaze to John. “And what’s that get us?”

“Well it will keep those hussies off your back for a while, and it lets you wear my ring. If you, if you want that I mean…” John sounded uncertain again, worried even.

Arthur’s eyes dropped to his bare finger, and for a moment he tried to picture it, picture this story John might weave, and because it was John it’d be like a two sentence story where he’d tell interested parties his brother lost the woman he loved, and now Arthur was just content being part of the Marston family which he… was. Since he’d be a widower, only the most ambitious or desperate might pursue a damn near penniless rancher, and the others would be expressing sorrow for his loss if they cared at all. Was that true too? His loss, all those years, and all those people he tried to protect but couldn’t, a woman he loved who couldn’t find a way to love him back for who he was? He could mourn off and on for the rest of his days for all of them and not many would think twice about it. It’s not that he wanted pity or that he thought there weren’t more out there that managed to lose so much more than he had it was just, this was a gift he didn’t know how to repay; John didn’t owe him this. “Okay.”

“Okay?” John sounded surprised which wasn’t too unexpected considering Arthur even startled himself with that answer.

“But you buy one only IF there is money left once we get our new herd, and you don’t get anything fancy. I mean it John. If I find out you spent any real money on a ring you’ll find yourself flat on your back again without the fun part to follow.” Arthur tenderly ran his fingertips over his ring finger, wondering and not understanding why every time John even mentioned a ring it did something inside him and made him feel the absence of a thing he never had and once, not long ago, came to accept he’d never get. “What you’re saying… what you’re offering.” Arthur swallowed uncomfortably and didn’t finish because he didn’t really know how to say what he felt. More books than any street boy, any grown outlaw ever meant to read or hear and somehow Hosea and Dutch didn’t ever teach him how to talk about how he felt. Sure, they talked about fears and wants, pride and needs even managed to love in their own ways but dig deep inside to make relationships work the way John wanted them to, how they needed to be, not that.

John grinned and winced because his nose must’ve still hurt. “Mr. Marston, will you do me the honor of joining me in bed?” Those dark eyes, the way they were looking at Arthur now, he knew John heard him, maybe even understood, but the first thing on a man like John’s mind was getting them more comfortable, getting them closer, and maybe that wasn’t such a wrong thing to try.

Arthur squirmed a little because this felt all kinds of different, but he nodded just the same. He went to the window to close the curtains, then he starved their lamp to dim the lights some. After that he finished taking everything else off to climb into the bed and just sort of lied there, awkwardly, wondering how come this felt so unusual when they’d been together plenty of times before.

His lover followed suit, climbed into the bed but lay to the side just looking at Arthur while he stared up at the ceiling and tried to ignore John’s pestering gaze. “Hey.” John whispered. “Turn and face me.”

Arthur complied, rolling over so their eyes might meet, and he frowned because John was grinning like a real clown now. “What?”

“You’ve got the nerves.”

“Have not.”

And then came the laugh. “Sure, sure you ain’t nervous or nothing.”

“John…”

“Okay. Okay.” John’s voice softened, and the younger man leaned forward pressing a gentle kiss to Arthur’s nose. “See, see how much better I treat you than you treat me.”

Arthur grinned but huffed. “I told you John, I’m not feeling guilty about that. You know I love you because I didn't knock your stupid ass out cold depriving you of the entire night, and your winnings. Did you even win anything?”

John reached out and gently ran his fingers along Arthur’s brow. “You mean besides Arthur Marston in my bed for tonight?”

“John…” Arthur realized he kept just using his partner’s name as if it were real conversation, but it, well it seemed to worked. After years of fighting and not understanding one another, it didn’t take much more than that to push John just a bit further with things like this.

“Yeah. I won some, fifteen dollars.”

Arthur whistled softly. “You cleaned the table?”

John shook his head. “I would’ve though if I didn’t have to go claim my man before someone else did.”

Arthur lifted his hand to cover John’s caressing fingers and still them for a moment. “You know, you know I ain’t like that. I’m not going to run off with some handsome, charming man just to spite you.”

“So you did think he was handsome?” Dark eyes narrowed slightly.

“It’s not even fun anymore; you make this too easy.” Arthur smiled.

John huffed at him and laughed, matching Arthur’s grin. “I can’t help it Arthur. I’ve got a beautiful woman at home, a strong and handsome man often with me, and a fine boy. It seems like a lot to be taken from one man, and I sure as hell can’t stand by while more attractive men try.”

Arthur immediately shook his head. “He wasn’t more attractive. I just, really John he confused me more than anything, talked too much. I was just trying to distract myself at the counter, and the man insisted on conversation.”

“His loss.” John whispered as he leaned in and ensued a gentle kiss which Arthur just, well he melted into it, feeling a need for tenderness he hadn’t realized developed inside him until just now. It lasted a good while too, and when their lips parted, John finally responded. “It’s an offer Arthur. It’s not forced, not insisted. We can keep being as we are if you need that, but I’m hoping you’ll let me have that honor.”

“I… I think I already said yes John. I just...” Arthur closed his eyes. “Being your brother, being your lover, hell even being in business with you isn’t going to be as hard as being your spouse.”

“What do you mean by hard Arthur?” John asked quietly.

“Brothers don’t break-up. Lovers usually don’t if the sex is good and it’s, well it’s good. Business partners, well our best examples held on until one of them died…”

“Was murdered.”

Their eyes met again, but there wasn’t any malice in John’s soft voice, just that gentle prodding, that reminder really for them not to make their past softer than it was, a whore was a whore, and a murder was a murder. “Was murdered.” Arthur conceded. “A marriage is, I figure I can mess that up as good as I’ve messed up any relationship I’ve had.”

John closed his eyes briefly and snickered slightly.

Old Arthur would’ve found that pretty damn offensive and infuriating, but the man that left the street tonight to go to a hotel where John thought they might have a better chance of just feeling through this, he waited because John wasn’t cruel when they weren’t fighting.

“I keep messing up with Abigail. Hell, I don’t… to be honest Arthur, I just don’t know how I could manage all this without you. If anyone was going to ruin things I know it would be me. You don’t run Arthur. You don’t give-up. You don’t... stop loving. I do all those things.” John admitted softly.

“You stopped loving?” Arthur wagered he already knew what John referred to.

“For about a year I went chasing other things to love and not really loving what I already had. I know it was just as much as you as it was Dutch and Hosea that I had anything to come home to at all even if I didn’t embrace it even then. You keep, you keep telling everyone, maybe even yourself, you loved that gang, that you wouldn’t have given it up for the world, and really I guess you didn’t, but it weren’t the gang you loved; it was our family, and I just know, just deep down know you would’ve picked Abigail and Jack over all them others.” John paused. “I ain’t teaching you how to love. Sure I might show you some pleasure, how to enjoy things we never got to enjoy before, but you’re teaching me Arthur. I gave you my name and, and my promise that I’ll die before I ever give that up, give you up again. I’m just following your lead really, but you know, added the fun parts and the cuddling you keep saying we’re not doing.”

Arthur tried to overcome the moisture gathering in the corner of his eyes, but he only partially succeeded because a few drops escaped. “It’s my promise too John, and I wasn’t able to keep most of those I made in the end.”

“Yeah well, you already gave up everything once for me. You don’t need to prove nothing. I do.”

“You don’t need to prove anything to me John.” Arthur took a deep breath and laughed aridly. “Arthur Marston is a hell of a thing.”

“Don’t even need to change your initials.” John needless reminded.

“Guess it’s a done deal then.” Arthur reached over and gently ran his fingers along John bare shoulder. “Is this the part where I’m supposed to be… nice to you?”

John brushed his fingertips over Arthur’s knuckles and then extended his arm so he could gently run his finger along Arthur’s brow, down along his hair line linger a bit while tracing an ear. “You were already real nice to me Arthur. This is the part where you were supposed to be really eager for me to win, you know anxious to get back to the room to do some celebrating.”

Arthur just savored that feeling, that gentle exploration of John’s. Sometimes his young lover touched him like he was so fragile, with such tenderness it left his heart aching and his mind wondering how he ever spent so much of his life without ever feeling something like that. How did John know how raw he felt right now anyway? He would’ve done it if John asked, just tried again, take John into his mouth, learn to give him pleasure better but instead here they were talking and almost cuddling again as if they weren’t two lost boys raised in a rough gang of outlaws better at stealing and killing than anything else. “I would’ve preferred to come here right after that exchange, but you had your heart on that damn game.” 

John grinned at him. “I had my heart set on proving I could win, so I could strut my stuff like some proud buck tonight, have you lie with a real fine man instead of what you usually get. I ain’t ever going to be a handsome man Arthur. I figure it’ll just all get worse as I get older, so I gotta do some things, once in a while, to give you and Abigail something to crow about.”

This time Arthur raised his hand to cup John’s cheek gently ran his thumb along John’s chin. “You ain’t ugly John, and I figure you’re just right for me anyhow. If you were some perfect daisy I wouldn’t stand a chance, and maybe you wouldn’t have ever come back. I love you.” He dropped his gaze briefly and laughed softly. “Hell of a thing to tell Abigail how you got your nose all bruised up though. I figure she is going to ask about that even if you give her those dollars.”

John leaned forward, captured Arthur’s lips with his and whispered. “I’ll tell her I got in a fight with a bigger man, true enough. We’re going to try something a little softer tonight Old Boy. I think we need it.”

“O… Okay.” Arthur replied hesitantly. Seeing they’d been plenty soft in bed now and then, he could only imagine what John had up his sleeve this time. Truth was though, Arthur looked forward to these moments, these opportunities to try something else because he figured John being interested in new ideas meant he wasn’t getting bored with his old, plain and not all that creative lover.

“Turn around.”

Arthur rolled away from John and felt the taller but certainly slimmer man push right up behind him. John’s chest pressed against Arthur’s back, his abdomen, hips, and an eager cock soon followed. Their legs tangled together. It was almost like when they were younger and sometimes shared a bedroll in winter, trying to get warm cept John’s hands began to move along the back of his neck and trailed down his shoulders to his hips, just stroking him. It felt, well it felt nice and close and that was before warm lips found his earlobe and nibbled. “How’s that feel?”

“Fine.” Gruff Arthur responded out of habit, before he had a chance to really process this. 

“Mmm, try to relax a little.” John whispered.

“I’m relaxed just, well… sorry.” Arthur mumbled a weak apology, and then really tried to be what he said, all relaxed.

“Nerves, told you.”

“Shut-up John and just tell me what to do.”

“Relax.” John murmured, a smile curling against the curve of Arthur’s neck where the younger man began to nibble.

And Arthur tried to, tried hard to just let things go and follow John’s lead except the worry ate at his gut. He ruined every relationship he had, every good thing slipping from his fingers and just when things started feeling regular, getting comfortable again John went and changed it all. 

“Arthur you’re getting tenser, not more relaxed.” Came a soft scolding from behind him.

“I don’t wanna mess this up John.” Arthur admitted quietly.

John sat-up and leaned over him a little. “This position is a whole lot easier than some others we tried. All you gotta do is lie there…”

“Not the sex you idiot.” Arthur felt the words spilling from his lips without a chance to really consider them, and it was like being in the street again when his fist sort of extended from his body in a moment of anger and planted John squarely on the ground. He glanced up to see John peering down at him, but instead of anger or hurt looking at him John just gazed down at him with a half-crooked maybe a slightly uncertain smile. 

“Would it help if you see me?”

Arthur nodded, not trusting his sharp tongue to say anything worthwhile at the moment.

“We'll change things a little then.” It took just a little maneuvering but eventually John wound up straddling Arthur, his palms splayed warmly over his chest and his thighs pressed snugly against his hips. “How’s that.”

“Fine.” One word seemed safe enough.

“Arthur, you ain’t gonna chase me away. I already know you can be a gruff, mean ole bastard with a strong arm and fist. I mean just look at my face. Can you even see it in this dark?”

Arthur blinked up at his smiling idiot of a lover and tried to peer at that nose in the dark but wound up dropping his head back against his pillow and laughing softly. “I can’t believe I did that.”

John stretched out over Arthur like a sleek cat and captured his lips, soft, encouraging and seeking lips which Arthur met after only a pause or two in hesitation. His young lover kissed his chin, worked his way down Arthur’s throat and paused to suck ever so gently along the vital vein they both knew was there. 

Cautiously Arthur felt the lead lift from his arms, so he could lift them and trace John’s broadening back, the scars felt as he caressed the firm skin. 

“There you go.” John praised quietly. “Arthur. I already got to choose you. I’m not backing away now.” 

Wet lips soon followed by a tongue made their way to his left nipple causing Arthur to close his eyes, rolling fingers into a loose fist against John’s shoulder blacks; he moaned. With a twisting tongue, curling and lapping, even flicking at one hard nipple and them moving to another, Arthur realized he had a pretty good lover here. Stupidly unafraid of doing things wrong, eager to set everything on fire rather than let there be a moment to linger with doubts, and so damn tender when he needed it that his heart and body easily sang under the other man’s attentions. Arthur felt wet lips traveled down his midsection and grunted a warning. “John…” It wouldn’t be a very long night if John kept going like that.

“Mmm.” John hummed near his navel. “Don’t worry Arthur. You don’t need to be… hard for me to enter you.” 

That tease and the flicker of a tongue along his belly button released a slight gasp from Arthur’s lips.

“Get you all tuckered out, and when you’re nice and calm just ride you real easy like, nice and slow.” John murmured, his tongue leaving a wet trail all the way down until warm breath tantalized the light hairs around Arthur too eager cock.

Arthur drew a shuddering breath, the muscles in his legs, back and arms tight as knots while trying to remain still when John ran the tip of his tongue from base to nearly smooth swell of the tip of his cock. His breathing quickened and despite his best efforts, he thrust forward, ever so slightly, too eager, too in need to do less.

Naturally John chuckled and wrapped calloused fingers around the thick, hot flesh. His other hand pressed against the slightly defined midriff. “Easy Old Boy.”

Both fingers admired the girth, firmness and heat that was Arthur’s body, leading to far more noticeable shudder from the older man. “John I, I… won’t…”

“That’s alright.” John whispered while leaning forward to lap up just the tiny amounts of precum forming around the slit of his lover’s cock. “I told you Arthur, gonna drain you good and then take yah all nice and slow like.” At this point John threw Arthur a smile and a teasing, heated gaze. “All you gotta do is try to remain… quiet.”

Oh. Arthur met that gaze, felt his already hard cock twitch at the promise while realizing what John meant because they weren’t at home, and even if they managed to leave without much questioning last time, after that spectacle in the street, the smart thing to do would’ve been to lie low; neither one of them was ever very good at choosing the wisest thing to do. Beside, he’d been shot in the shoulder at point blank range, tortured and almost found death at the top of a mountain, how hard could it be to lay low while John... Arthur gasped loudly as soon as John just up and engulfed him, dropping down to the hilt, nose pressed against those fine blonde hairs and chin against his balls. “Jesus John.”

Dark eyes vanished behind closed lids while his young, eager lover began to nurse on his cocks, just really suck and lick and flicker his tongue as if he truly wanted to test Arthur’s ability to remain quiet. Arthur tried so hard to be just that, his fingernails biting in the thick palms of his strong hands, his ass and thigh muscles contracted hard enough to crack a nut, and he felt his toes curl every time the little shit swallowed. He even spread his legs, trying to find a natural way to relieve some pressure only to have the brunette wrap his arms around meaty thighs to move even close, now using the girth of his shoulders to keep Arthur from closing his legs again. Breaking him, that’s what it felt like, an overwhelming sensation of pleasure and intensity that occasionally crossed into the territory of pain, and Arthur wouldn’t trade that for the world. Just a number of months ago, Arthur would’ve rejected this, either out of anger or fear or even shame, but right now he just felt, well it was all too much to really comprehend. Instead of running or objecting Arthur just let himself tumble into the loss of control because he was with John, his John, and because he was John’s in nearly every sense of the word now… even by name.

Of course it didn’t take long; Arthur came with a hefty grunt and cry he tried to conceal with the heft of his arm which mostly worked. He bucked as good as any bronco too, but his boy, his John endured it, seemed to appreciate his movements, might have even made a muffled laughing sound just before the larger man tensed and released himself deep down John’s throat.

Minutes later everything felt warm and a strange bliss overcame him. Arthur closed his eyes, time went still, and he breathed in deeply. His body relaxed to the point he barely felt John climb over him so their lips could meet. This time only a tiny part of his mind rebelled against tasting his own seed even if his already flushed face reddened with the knowledge, and he accepted the aggressive tongue sliding along his, thrusting deep and dominating. John’s excited cock, thick and ready, became firmly wedged between them when John shifted to one side to whisper against his ear. “That’s it Old Boy. Deep breaths, and don’t move. Stay right there for me.”

The slick, the oil. Arthur blinked in realization that his young idiot didn’t it bring it with him, again, but it didn’t matter. He couldn’t have moved to save his life. Arthur’s body still tingled with release, and he might as well have been a puppet when his lover climbed back on and began to liberally coat himself just where light eyes could only barely see the work. Strong slick fingers, hips that rolled slightly with each stroke like John was preparing and rubbing one off at the same time. Arthur must’ve held his breath at some point because he had to inhale deeply when those brown eyes suddenly lifted and met his gaze. John grinned, a wolfish and triumphant smile. It suddenly dawned on him that it was pretty likely John weren’t celebrating the twenty dollars at all. “You, you didn’t know you were going to say what you were going to say.” Arthur objected quietly to a question never asked nor answered.

“I had a feeling tonight was going to be special.” John murmured, coated his fingers liberally and then wedge himself between Arthur’s substantial thighs again. He didn’t give a warning and didn’t need to when he inserted a finger into Arthur’s tight entrance. After all, Arthur was spent, drained emotionally and physically and just pressed his head back firmly against a too flat pillow when that little digit wiggled inside him. It felt just so…strange to feel that, to need it but at the same time relinquish so much of himself so readily when his body felt so exposed and limp as it was. “How’s that?”

“Good.” He muttered without really thinking about it.

“Mmm.” John continued. “Hard to know if I’ll get another one out of you tonight, but it will feel good, promise.”

“Okay John.” Arthur whispered, again without thinking what he was saying, just really focusing on the sensation of a second finger and then a third. Who knew that to get the boy to show an ounce of patience in learning or doing anything, all he needed to do years ago was have sex with him. It made him smile.

John leaned forward and plant a gentle kiss against Arthur’s pale inner thigh. “You better be thinking of me Old Man. Because if you ain’t…”

“Am.” Arthur confirmed lazily and reached down to gently touch that stringy black hair of his. “No one else, never gonna be anyone else for me John.”

John straightened himself, ran his fingers over his abdomen and then moved in, lining himself up so he could enter his lover nice and easy.

As relaxed as he was, he felt the thick flesh stretch his puckered entrance little by little, working its way in until the solid head popped inside him. Only when the rest of that mass entered him did Arthur realize that John intended to do this, nice and slow, really draw this out; he didn’t mind that one bit. It felt… good to be ridden like that once John began. He felt each and every inch of that fine cock burrow in and out of him, got to see those muscles bunch and relax around John’s hip bones, see them roll if he snapped forward for just a moment. It really seemed like they could do this for some time, hell it felt good enough to do for some time with John even being willing to carry on like this. Arthur moaned and rolled his head back feeling like he were at the top of a beautiful mountain just feeling alive.

“Moan for me Arthur.”

And he did. He really did just open his mouth and let a rumbling deep sound release from the depth of his chest just because John asked him to, just because his husband wanted him to. 

John grinned, triumphant, happy and in more ways than one certainly able to claim this night to be one of his making. 

If they were a little wiser, they would’ve moved the bed further away from the wall. It rocked against it only on occasion, only when John put a little more heft into a thrust. One time Arthur just reached up and sort of hit that wall too, the sensation building up inside him that he felt, needed to unleash it against something, and then he settled down again enough to close his eyes and just listen to the steady sound of skin slapping together while his younger lover breathed in and out without missing a beat. Only when his lover leaned forward, curled his fingers against his strong thighs and the short nails bit into the firm skin there did Arthur prepare and shortly thereafter receive the heated moisture deep inside him.

Just like before, John waited until he was soft, climbed off the bed, grabbed a towel which he moistened and then went to cleaning. The boy who refused baths at every turn, often had to be held down to get a comb through that rat’s nest hair of his, and would come to dinner smelling like horse, hay or whatever else he rolled in meticulously cleaned up after the two of them and then tossed the towel aside so he could climb into the bed and wrap his arms around Arthur, a boastful grin dominating his face. 

Arthur sighed, content but also preparing himself for the bragging to come.

“Whatcha think, twenty minutes?”

Arthur turned to accept a kiss and couldn’t help the smile forming when he got another one against his temple. “Long, maybe not that long.”

“Maybe.” John scooched in real close and lay his head against Arthur’s shoulder. Of course Arthur wrapped his arm around his lover. “You were getting hard again.”

“Felt good.” Arthur admitted. “You, you try that before, going so long?”

“Only with the ones that like me and like it. Do that with a whore, and she’s likely to get real mad.”

Arthur chuckled. “Sounds like you tried.”

John grinned against his bare skin. “Abigail said that really made me an asshole since the lady I was with probably didn’t want it like I did. I just, you know, wanted to show off.”

“I wanted it.” Arthur assured. “I told you John, I just like being with you. I wouldn’t mind if we did it the same way all the time.”

“More often?”

Arthur closed his eyes. Give him that. Just admit you like it. “Yeah, I’d like sex more often John, but let’s not go on and talk about it. Let’s just, just rest up.”

“Okay.” 

A few minutes later.

“Arthur.”

Another sigh. “Yes John?”

“I like you soft. I like you hard. Just, just be as you need to be around me.”

Arthur gave a brief nod. “I weren’t good at acting even when I was told to be. I figure, I figure around you I didn’t want to be much else but myself since you got me into the house. I figure… I figure you’ve had Arthur Marston around for a while now John; I just didn’t know what to call him.”

“Can I, can I also call him mine Arthur?”

Arthur swallowed but agreed. “Yeah, yeah Arthur Marston, Old Boy, Old Man… is all yours John.”

John grinned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This went... really long, like a lot longer than my other chapters. Trying to trim it just led to a little more so I just, well, I kept it long rather than break it up into two.
> 
> I suspect there will be some more in this A/U in the near future even though I keep ending my pieces with, well endings really.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed it. 
> 
> A Late Merry Christmas, and a great New Year to come everyone.

**Author's Note:**

> This might seem sort of like a PWP, but I swear it isn't. There is a plan here, hopefully one you can all enjoy.


End file.
